


The Challenge/Good Boy Series aka The Porn War

by LadyVader



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, M/M, Object Penetration, Porn War, Porn with Feelings, Revenge Sex, Underage Sex, Unsafe Sex, Written Pre-Half Blood Prince, unbetad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 17:19:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 58,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8455150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVader/pseuds/LadyVader
Summary: Once upon a time my good friend Dreambastion sent me a PWP fic knowing full well I was in a room full of people - I wrote her one back in revenge, then she went, then I went, back and forth until we each had series consisting of ridiculous porn and almost no plot, hence 'The Porn Wars' lol so the best summary I can give for this story is 'Hate Sex turns to Feels' and hope that each section explains itself as it goes ;)





	1. The Challenge

**Author's Note:**

> My dear friend and long-time beta Dreambastion hung up her fic posting days for personal reasons and chooses to not host her fics online any more, for that reason sadly this is just my side without Dreambastion’s but hopefully its spirit remains intact ;) that said I can reach her should anyone want access to her stuff, just inbox me and I can pass on your requests to her :) 
> 
> On another note I wrote this a long time ago (PreHBP) and in an effort to not run through changing things willy-nilly that I would not write now or would just prefer to change a bit, I’ve only glanced at it so if anyone sees any stonking mistakes or triggers or other horrors I should know about, please let me know, I’ve tried to tag it accordingly but gimme a shriek if I’ve missed owt x

**Title: The Challenge**  
 **Series: Part 1 of the 'I'm Revenging myself on Dreambastion for Making me Squirm in Company' series.**  
 **Category: PWP**  
 **Summary: _'And you thought I couldn't fuck you…'_**  
 **Dedication: For Angel, my beta and bud extraordinaire… because she wrote me SMUT with which to destroy me!!! ;P Right back atcha hon. *mwah***  
  
  
**The Challenge** :  
  
Draco leant his head back against the cool stone walls, idly fisting his cock as he pictured the tight red lips wrapped about it not 15 minutes previously. It wasn't that long a walk back from the Ravenclaw dorms to the Dungeons but long enough to have his blood stirring afresh. He couldn't stand that prissy bitch Chang, but damn did she give good head, sobbing and sucking intermittently, ashamed of her desire to be treated like a whore.   
  
Perhaps that's why she and Potter hadn't worked out, he mused, giving himself a slow, luxurious pull as he basked against the moonlit stone and biting his lip on a hiss of pleasure. Potter would have worshipped and cherished her, kissed away her tears and made sweet love to her and the entire time she'd have wanted him to grind her into the dirt and make her his bitch.  
  
He smirked. Chances were, Potter would have if he'd only known she wasn't the pathetic wretch she appeared to be. There was always something in that muddled gaze, something not quite seen behind those glasses, something only Draco saw when they both dived, teeth bared for the snitch, or rolling over one another, teeth digging in between the others ribs, blood dripping and chests heaving.  
  
Potter wasn't as pure as he seemed. Oh no. Draco allowed himself a full, feline smile of satisfaction. Potter was darker than those colours he wore with pride and it was a frequent fantasy of the Slytherin's to expose whatever dirty desire lurked deep in the heart of Gryffindor's finest.  
  
He twisted and tightened his fingers as he reached the crown, imagining, instead of the Ravenclaw's lip-gloss smudged, full lips, Potter's tight furious mouth, teeth catching against the head as he glared and hated and loathed the blond for every sharp thrust past his unwilling lips.  
  
"Fuck... yes. Take it Potter…" He groaned into the night, watching as ribbons of silky liquid shot out into the darkness, his entire body seeming to expand into a pleasured sigh, the orgasm ripped up and outwards from his toes. God he loved thinking about fucking Potter.  
  
Normally he preferred girls, who wouldn't? Their soft curves, breasts in sizes from merely biteable to easily fuckable, rounded graspable asses, long legs that could wrap about you tighter than Devils Snare... But nothing, not the easiest, nor the most frigid girl could compare to his fantasies. Each time he sank into a warm, wet female his body exulted…. But his mind rebelled. ' _Potter would be tighter_ '. It whispered, and he believed it.  
  
Humming softly in contentment, mind still rich with vivid images of driving himself into that tightness, hearing Potter beg him, maybe to stop, maybe for more, he started back for his own rooms, smiling when his thighs trembled slightly. He'd been a busy boy.  
  
He hadn't intended on visiting the Queen of Insipidity, but he'd just had the most delightful time with the Patil twins and they'd put him in just the right frame of mind for a truly 'fun' blowjob. He smirked afresh. Fun truly was the term for messing with Chang. She was so easily controlled. A word or two about telling the school about her little 'problem' with PepperUp potions and there she was, sobbing at his feet and swallowing him to the root.  
  
Three girls in just under two hours and a rather pleasurable wank in the corridors. Not a bad night at all, he thought to himself, grinning. "Now if Potter would just get his arse down here & spread those cheeks my night would be perfect."  
  
He stiffened, midstride. It couldn't have been…. Couldn't. Because that would be…  
  
"Perfect." He breathed, eyes scanning the shadows for the source of the seeming gasp, palming his wand and striking it out into the night. " _Accio_ Invisibility Cloak!"  
  
He stood, blinking and amazed before laughing with sheer delight at the boy before him.  
  
"Harry Potter… you do realise, if you're here on command that you're ignoring several key elements of my command? Uh… uh." He lifted his wand to face level as the boy who lived paled, his own hand reaching towards a pocket. " _Accio_ wand."  
  
The distress on Potter's face might have been comical had the Gryffindor not lunged forwards after his beloved wand, pummelling his fists into Draco's abdomen and sent them both staggering against the opposite window.  
  
"Give me back my fucking wand you perverted fuck!" Harry howled, body bucking backwards even as Draco sang out a binding charm, wrists and elbows locked behind him, bending the Gryffindor over the windowsill.  
  
"Oh now, I'm perverted?" Draco purred, rolling his hips against the brunets writhing form. "Which one of us was it, I wonder, who stood watching the other jerking off? Which one stood and watched while I said your name with my dick in my hand, Potter?"  
  
"Fuck you, I was waiting for you to do something twisted, something for your precious Dark Lord Not…. Not this, now get your fucking HANDS OFF ME!!!"  
  
Laughing softly as Potter bucked and raged beneath him, Malfoy leant heavily against him, crushing him down hard enough for that one second long enough to whisk his wand up once more and cast Potter's chest to the stone.  
  
"There now," Draco smiled, leaning back, his weight removed, allowing the Gryffindor his breath once more even if he was now bonded cleanly to the sill. "Isn't that better? We can have a nice chat about your voyeurism without your innate love of violence getting in the way."  
  
Harry growled and spat, head and hips thrashing, and legs striking out, shivering in his bonds. "What's there to talk about you sicko, you like to beat off in public and apparently you're fucking queer for me to boot, that why you've charmed me down? So you can have 'your way with me'?" He laughed dully, twisting his head round to glare scornfully up at the blond.  
  
Draco lifted a hand, dragging the Gryffindor’s robes up over his hindquarters to insolently run a hand over the trembling white thighs beneath. "Perhaps," He mused, "or perhaps I'll leave you for Filch to find, all trussed up and squealing like a third rate whore." He let his fingers drift upwards, flexing the long digits over the tight black material of Potters muggle boxer shorts until he reached the small of Potters spine, the brunet quivering violently beneath his touch. “Then again…" He purred caressingly.  
  
Harry bucked wildly, breath sobbing in his throat. "Don't touch me, don't fucking touch me you bastard, I don't…. Don't…"  
  
"Don't what Potter?" He eased the black material down over suddenly stilled hips. "You don't?"  
  
"I don't want this."  
  
Draco bit his lip. "Well really Potter, since when have I ever cared what you want or like?"  
  
"You can't. You won't."  
  
"Oh? And what 'won't I'?"  
  
"You can't fuck me."  
  
A bolt of lust shot through Draco. "Oh?" He queried tremulously. Fucking Potter… oh god, could he? Just like this, here, against the stone, crying and begging like his ex-girlfriend?  
  
"No." Draco chanced a glance towards the Gryffindor’s face and was surprised at the victory he saw in those blasted protected eyes. "You're 17, not a god. You think you can get it up again, then go ahead. You can't. You only just came with Cho."  
  
One platinum brow shot skyward. Oh, so Potter knew Draco did his exgirlfriend did he? Odd, as he didn't appear to mind but then, there were more important issues at stake.  
  
Potter was right. Draco closed his eyes briefly, summoning back the twins as they took turns riding him, Chang as her mouth pursed and a bead of his come appeared on her lower lip and now Potter, Potter, bound and helpless and all but granting him permission (not that he cared) to fuck him if he could summon the blood. He twitched slightly in response. He'd come 4 times. It was too much.  
  
He swore, long and loudly, louder after noting the Gryffindor’s shoulders shaking with ill repressed mirth, spinning and seizing him by that idiotically luxuriant black hair.   
  
"Think just because I can't fuck you you're getting off scot-free Potter? Think because I've lost too much of my come down your precious Cho's throat I can't give you the ride you so  _obviously_  need?"  
  
Potter squirmed and gasped as suddenly Draco shoved a hand into his face.  
  
"Suck my fingers Potter."  
  
Harry reared back, sneering. "Fuck no, you sick twat!"  
  
Draco pulled his hair tighter round his fist and shoved two fingers against his lips. "Suck them or they're going in dry. No biting or I'll shove my whole hand in at once."  
  
The brunet shivered, green eyes locked to silver for endless moments before slowly the bitten red lips parted and Draco shoved his fingers past, into the moist depths with a low croon of satisfaction. Harry flushed an angry red as the Slytherin slowly fucked his mouth, twisting here and there to let the saliva wet his knuckles, heavy lidded eyes fluttering as each smooth stroke inwards made him wish he were shoving another part deeper into the bound boy.  
  
"Now, Potter," Draco whispered, pulling his fingers free with a wet pop, his spare hand sliding from his hair to delve between the moonlit cheeks. "Now we'll see which one of us is sick."  
  
And he slowly slid his fingers inside Harry Potter.  
  
The Gryffindor threw his head back and yelped, thighs tensing, feet stuttering against the stone, unable to close his legs with Draco pressed between them, his forehead smacking back against the stone on a gasp, winded and senseless as Draco pulled back then shoved the fingers back into his ass.  
  
"No." He whispered brokenly, "No, no, no, no, no…."  
  
"Yes." Draco corrected, swivelling his hand and contracting his fingers as he stretched the taut muscle, ignoring the soft sobbing noises, pulling the digits free to push them once more into Potter's face. "Wet them again, three this time."  
  
Harry recoiled, mouth tight and whimpering in revulsion and Draco laughed at his obvious disgust.  
  
"Relax Potter, they're clean and so were you. I already checked."  
  
Harry seemed to reverberate with the humiliation that ran through his body, face darkening further yet belying his mouths slow parting, the way his eyes lifted and held Draco's as he sucked obediently and a shiver of something… warmth?… shot through the Slytherin as he watched.  
  
"Good boy," he murmured smoothly, "Good boy." Then he sank all three back inside Harry, when his mouth opened again it was noiseless, lips formed in an 'o' of surprise and…. Draco smiled, twisting his fingers and shoving them back in hard, then harder.  
  
' _Such long fingers_ ' his mother had always cooed when he was a child ' _you’ll be so creative, my little artist…_ '  
  
This was art.   
  
Potter's spine desperately trying to curve between the thrashing of Potter's head and hips thrusting back against his hand now, thighs trembling and those green eyes firmly shut, blocking out all but the sensations rocketing through him and the traitorous mews of indescribable feeling that slid past his damp, red lips. Potter was the culmination of his genius.  
  
Panting himself and still stubbornly, unfairly, cursedly flaccid, he leaned over to hiss directly against the flesh of Potter's ear, "Think you can do four… Harry?"  
  
An inarticulate cry wrenched forth, seemingly from Potter's chest and his hips slammed back, impaling himself further on those impossibly long and clever fingers.  
  
_Good Boy_.   
  
Draco smiled, pulling his fingers free to twist and twine his fourth as well, pushing the jumbled digits past the spasming ring and rewarding the Gryffindor's soft moan and curling toes with the softest nudge to the bundle of nerves he knew should be right…. There.   
  
He bit Harry's throat and purred as the brunets mouth opened wide, a silent scream pouring forth as his overloaded senses fried themselves, suckling gently at the mark as the muscles clamped and clenched rhythmically.  
  
"And you thought I couldn't fuck you." He whispered.  
  
Harry turned his face to the stone, trembling uncontrollably as Draco drew his hand clear and sagging against the stone as the binding charm released his aching arms, allowing him to move freely against the sill.  
  
Obligingly, Draco charmed Potter's underwear and robes back into place, silently absorbing the trickle of come against the stone as a detail to be lavishly replayed and rejoiced later on.  
  
"I suppose you'll want your wand back now?" He enquired solicitously, heart hammering as the brunet straightened and turned to face him, spine straight, green gaze unrelenting in its focus.  
  
Unbreakable, all but for the lone tear lingering on his cheekbone, the quivering red lips and throbbing breaths.  
  
Draco couldn't hold in a smile. To think, he'd though Chang's pain beautiful. She was nothing.  
  
They were  _all_  nothing.  
  
But him.  
  
He held Potter's precious wand out, seizing the shaking hand that rose to claim it, darting forward to snatch the quaking, gasping form against him. Helpless once more.  
  
He drove a hand back into Potter's hair, twisting his face up to his to lick the tear away before trailing down to bite then abruptly kiss at the Gryffindor’s damp mouth, releasing him as quickly as he'd taken hold.  
  
He stepped back, straightening his robes, looking down the darkened corridor unable, for some reason, to meet the anguished gaze, clearing his suddenly dry throat.  
  
"Potter. If you must trail around after hours stalking me, then you'd best have this back." He threw the invisibility cloak back to the still silent though slowly stiffening Gryffindor. "I'll forget I saw it this time, although it's good to see that, at least this time, the rumours were true."  
  
He turned and walked a little way down the corridor, halting in the shadows to stop and look back at the still shell-shocked and stationary Gryffindor. He sighed, exasperated and marched back, ignoring the wand point that shot back up at his proximity.  
  
He slammed Harry back against the stone, filling his open mouth with his tongue and fury at being so easily captivated, biting into the full, soft flesh of the brunet’s lower lip, staring into the furious gaze as he pulled back, the tip of Potter's wand pushed tight into the skin at the underside of his jaw.  
  
"Good boy," he soothed again, revelling in that light, that strange shine of white teeth not quite bared against him, somehow shaking now himself.  
  
"Potter, if you're stalking me, just waiting for me to do something in the name of the supposed 'Dark Lord', " he sneered and felt his blood rush at the feeling of Potter's hand tight at his throat, still patiently listening, "Then you'll be waiting a long time." He lowered his head, letting his lips catch against Potters temple, his fingers stealing up to press against Potter's lips, his heart stuttering breath catching as the Gryffindor gently ran his tongue over the tips. "And Potter?" His voice was barely a whisper. "If you come back tomorrow, I'll put my cock in you."  
  
Harry's head jerked up and away, biting hard at Draco's lower lip, piercing the skin before pulling himself out of Draco's embrace, backing away, wand drawn into the darkness.  
  
"Tomorrow, then." The words barely reached Draco as Harry literally disappeared into the night.  
  
Draco leant back against the stone and tasted the blood flowing from his lip and trembled, laughing softly.  
  
Tomorrow then.  
  
_Perfect._


	2. A Challenge Met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of the 'Revenge Fic Porn War  
> Summary: "Good Boy," he whispered...

**A Challenge Met:**

A Malfoy never rushed. Draco had been taught that from an early age. Malfoy's never rushed, hurried or scurried because a Malfoy was never late. If you're important, his father had told him, People will wait.  
  
And yet…  
  
Draco ran, he ran all the way from the Quidditch pitch, round the outside of the rather decorative display the advanced Herbology students had created depicting the house colours and emblems, before darting into the corridors towards the end of the group study areas, a few minute’s walk from the Ravenclaw dorms. Students were only permitted to use these rooms during certain hours, under supervision of a professor or Prefect and, as Prefect, Draco was certain the corridors would again be clear tonight. He'd worked hard to keep them that way. After all, who knew when the need would arise to have the empty rooms at his disposal, who knew when opportunity would make itself known at precisely the time he strolled back through here from a prior assignation.  
  
He knew. That time was tonight and he was late, later than the night before, perhaps already too late for what he'd hoped for, dreamed about all day long and if he'd missed his chance then he'd be running straight back to Slytherin to decapitate their supposed Quidditch captain. After he'd skinned him.  
  
He stumbled to halt just before the turn into the moonwashed stone walkway, so loosely connected to the building itself. It was merely a few windows, placed carefully every few feet but the effect was that of being embraced by the outdoors, the windows bare and open into the night. He bit his lip as he wrenched his wand from within his Quidditch bracers to cast a cleanser charm over himself. Just because he'd lacked the time to change, it didn't mean he had to smell like the Quidditch pitch too.  
  
Besides, he had entirely better plans for being sweaty that night. He scowled as he turned into the corridor, striding with what he hoped seemed a casual determination. The best laid plans indeed.  
  
He stopped at the windowsill, bright with light and cold beneath his fingers as he recalled its involvement the previous night, Potter's raw breaths and sobbing pleas still heavy in his mind and he felt his flesh rise and rub excruciatingly against the leather of his practice gear.  
  
"Potter." He breathed into the darkness, halting the air in his chest as he listened intently for anything, something, a rustle of fabric, a sharp gasp as before. His fingers clenched tighter on his wand. If the Gryffindor were there & hiding, he could easily call for that fabled cloak and be on him, all over him within moments.  
  
But it wasn't what he wanted. He'd watched Potter at breakfast, wasn't sure he could have pulled his greedy, heavy gaze from the other boy if he had even wanted to. He'd been subtle, his eyes covertly craving from beneath lowered gilt lashes but Potter's eyes had been on him every other second. He'd been wound tighter than a Basilisks coil, waiting, shifting, squirming and watching Draco so obviously that even Crabbe had noticed.  
  
He'd ignored his blundering friend's queries, intent on not looking at Potter. Potter was expecting him to do something, anticipating a humiliation not yet thought of let alone put into action. Draco resented that. It would have been far too easy to simply to just lift those fingers and wave them mockingly towards the Gryffindor, perhaps stopping to lick the butter his toast would have been bound to leave on them. But he didn't.  
  
Instead he rose at the end of his meal, lifting his eyes just once to meet Potters, an instant connection so clear it almost seemed to resound from the walls of the Great Hall, before turning to stroll to his first class. He hadn't looked at him for the rest of the day. Not lifting his eyes at lunch or dinner, although had he suspected an impromptu practice was about to be called then perhaps he would have. But he had held out. He had what he needed.  
  
His cock twitched again as he pictured Potter's squirming against the bench and wondered idly if he was sore, Draco 'had' shoved four fingers inside him with nothing more than the Gryffindor’s spit to guide them. He moaned quietly.  
  
_There_. And then again. The tell-tale sweep of burnished, glittering and most importantly invisible fabric.  
  
' _Come to me_ ' Draco ordered silently, quaking with his need for the 'Hero' to give himself to him. ' _Come on Potter…_ '  
  
The night air rippled just to his right and even as Draco caught his breath, the Boy Who Lived stood before him.  
  
Draco smiled, enjoying the brief flash of panic of the brunet's face.  
  
"Good Boy." He whispered, and seized him.  
  
Spinning, two hands tight in Potter's robes, he slammed the Gryffindor against the wall before crushing him in place with the weight of his own form, one leather clad thigh firmly insinuating itself between the smaller boys.  
  
"Been here long, Potter?" He grunted, fighting now to snatch hold of Harry's hands and twist them away, noting the wand cleverly clasped between the fingers of the brunets right hand. "Did you actually show and then wait for me? How long have you been stood here, trying to decide if you should crawl back to your little tower or stay here, stay here and let me have you?"  
  
Harry managed to wrench one hand clear, scrabbling against Draco's chest and throat to push him from him. "Shut up!" He shouted, white and trembling, wand still dangling limply from his fingers even as he tensed and shoved back against the bigger boy. "Just shut the fuck up, shut your mouth Malfoy!"  
  
Draco panted and bared his teeth. "Good idea!" He growled back and lunged in deeper to bite harshly at Potter's mouth, not tearing but crushing the soft flesh between his lips and teeth, snarling in triumph at Harry's astonished whimper. He pulled back, licking at the abused skin before abruptly hurtling back against the opposing wall as words and sound burst clear from Harry's lips.  
  
Apparently he'd remembered he had that bloody wand.  
  
"Back the fuck off!" Harry yelped more than shouted, wand aimed but shaking plainly in his white-knuckled grasp.  
  
Draco stood and caught his breath, back braced against the obliging stone.  
  
"Calm down Potter. Anyone would think you weren't expecting this." He cocked an eyebrow. "You 'do' remember why you're meeting me here, right Potter?"  
  
The brunet swallowed painfully. "It's not what you think." He rasped out, stiffening when Draco pushed away from the wall, advancing heedless of the wand now digging into his chest.  
  
"Oh?" He queried mockingly, "And what do I think? Because, I've got to tell you this Potter, I'm a little confused."  
  
The Gryffindor flinched ever so slightly, blinking. "I'm not here, not because you told me to be…. Not for… that."  
  
Draco's hand covered Harry's, long elegant fingers overlapping the nerveless cold digits numbly clasped about his wand. "And that’s where I'm confused," Draco seemingly purred, "Because if you don't want this," his thumb rubbed gently against the back of the brunets, deliberately dragging his skin slowly over the pronounced ridges of knuckle, "Then why are you here?"  
  
Harry blinked in the pure white light bouncing off the stone walls and highlighting Draco's hair with something akin to a halo effect, shaking heavily from head to foot. "Who…" he stuttered, voice catching as a gust of wind swirled in through the open window to chill each boys skin, "Who are you loyal to? What's your allegiance?"  
  
Draco's eyebrows quirked neatly in a practised expression of polite incredulity. "Potter, do you honestly expect me to stand here and bare my soul, my seeming life plans to you simply because you've asked?"  
  
Potter didn't so much as shift an inch beneath his mocking gaze, his jaw tightening with seeming determination. "Malfoy. Are you joining him?"  
  
Draco let his lashes flutter in the light, enjoying the reflection of them in Potter's glasses. "Him? Him who, Potter?"  
  
Potter's teeth flashed, bared suddenly and the Slytherin enjoyed a tremor of anticipation at the sudden show of ire. "Your Father. Voldemort. Either, both. Are. You. Joining. Them?"  
  
The slow, smooth smile was too easy, felt too good emerging but Draco couldn't withhold it all the same. "Why should I tell you, Potter?"  
  
The taut column of the Gryffindor’s throat flexed convulsively as he swallowed.  
"Tell me." He commanded hoarsely.   
  
Draco lifted his arm, extending it and twisting so that the Gryffindor might let his eyes linger over the leather concealed forearm, his voice a low whisper in the night. "You want to know if I'm a Deatheater?"  
  
Potter shook, nodding once, sharp and somehow terrified.  
  
"I'll show you," Draco took a step forward, "You can examine my arm to your hearts content, I might even tell you what you want to know." His smile was white and feral in the glass of Potter's spectacles. "But not until after."  
  
"A… after?"   
  
Draco blinked, oddly charmed by Potter's pretended ignorance of his intent. It seemed Gryffindor’s could lie after all.  
  
"Yes Potter, after. It is, after all, why _I'm_ here."  
  
He was close enough now to put out a hand and let his fingers casually slide from Potter's collar bone to his inner elbow where he fancied he could feel the blood beating fiercely even under the Gryffindor’s voluminous robes.  
  
"So," he purred, wetting his lips and watching the green eyes focus and follow the motion, "how about this. We'll fuck and  _then_  we'll talk about my allegiance."  
  
He closed his fingers in the material at Potter's arms, a handful on each side as he attempted to steer the brunet back towards the wall, only to have Harry spin away, hands held up to ward the Slytherin off.  
  
"No," Harry panted, breathless and so suddenly loud in the former quiet, "No."  
  
Draco's lip curled and twitched upwards into a sneer. So much for Gryffindor courage. "No?" He drawled back, the word weighty with ice.  
  
"Show me your arm," Harry spoke, words seeming to form like crystal before him in the cool night air, breath catching upon his lips as he continued, "Show me, then… then you can fuck me."  
  
Every blood vessel in Draco's body strained and surged upwards and he imagined he swayed on his feet before responding. "Sacrificing yourself, Potter? Take it for the good of the team and all that?"  
  
"Yes." Harry whispered and Draco hated him for the word. "And no."  
  
Grey eyes widened slightly at the brunet's latter words before deft fingers lifted to the fastenings on his left bracer. "Tell me you want to." He commanded softly and gloried in the hitch in Potter's breathing. "Tell me you want me to fuck you."  
  
"I… I want you to…" Harry's voice trailed off, the words disappearing like mist as his voice cracked then died out.  
  
"Well?" Draco grit his teeth against the urge to leap forward and shake the admission from the supposed Hero.  
  
Harry's eyes dropped to the floor, before lifting back up, uncertain and slightly accusing as those red lips parted. "You… you said," He blurted and Draco cocked an impatient eyebrow, breath halted, leaden in his chest as the brunet finished his gentle accusation. "You said you'd put your cock in me. If I came back."  
  
The Gryffindor took a step closer to Draco once more. "And I'm here. Now."  
  
Draco exhaled heavily through his nostrils, hands already unlacing his bracer with more speed than perhaps elegant, ripping at the leather and turning his pristine forearm to the moonlight and Potter's gaze.  
  
"There." He said quietly.  
  
"Yes." Harry agreed, eyes traversing the smooth flesh swiftly before lifting to Draco's, a slow, predatory smile showing the Slytherin's pleasure.  
  
"And now," he whispered, fingers already seizing Potter's robes to pull him closer. "I believe we had an agreement… Harry."  
  
A tremor ran through the Gryffindor’s trim form and Draco fancied he could feel the heat spoke up and outwards from the brunet’s skin as he ran his hands up and over the slim chest to push a hand tight against Harry's nape. "Kneel down."  
  
The urgent whisper barely left Draco's lips before Harry was white as paper and twice as fragile. "Why?" He whispered back and Draco was struck with amusement at the seeming reverence their soft tones implied.  
  
"Now, now Potter." He soothed, threading long white fingers into the dark, silken strands of the Gryffindor's hair, pushing the thick wave back from that almost obscenely bright scar and letting his teeth catch over his lower lip and the bolt that rushed through him at the sight of it. "You know why… think about it. Yesterday you were sucking on my fingers because…?"  
  
Harry's shoulders stiffened and he pushed upwards against the palm trying to slowly ease him downwards. "Because I wanted to. That’s why." He spat, with the sort of quiet dignity Draco had spent years despising him for.  
  
"And you don't want this?" The words were off Draco's lips before he could stop them, hating the almost vulnerable soft tone he heard as they travelled to Potter's ears.  
  
"I… I don't think I, not like this. I thought you…"  
  
Draco let go his hold upon the Gryffindor and stepped close enough to taste Potter's breath, eyes dilating in turn as he watched the green slowly swallowed by heated black. He tilted his head as though to kiss the boy and revelled in the slow bloom of heat in the previously pale cheeks. Potter was resisting but he was definitely interested.  
  
He let his head drop just low enough to be able to taste the brunets lips, just once, just enough to have his senses reeling as he pulled away.  
  
"Potter… I want to fuck you. I want to be so deep inside you that you can't help but feel me in every fucking fibre of your being." He relished the shudder that coursed directly from the Gryffindor's body into his. "But that can't happen, won't happen unless you get down and get me wet."  
  
A different shudder that time. Draco wasn't sure whether he liked it. He wanted Potter to submit to him, certainly, to do it because he told him to…. But so unwillingly? Irrelevant, he decided slowly exhaling through his nose. He was in charge here and it was time Potter learned to earn his rewards.  
  
"B…but, can't I just?" The crude hand gesture that would normally have driven Draco into a frenzy of fantasies centred on the glory of fucking Potter's callused fist was beneath him, too much, too pitiful for their current situation and he let a sneer distort his lips.  
  
"Potter…" he hissed, letting his hand lift and tighten ever so gently against the smooth throat. “You want it? Then get down and suck it."  
  
Harry's jaw clenched once and a fine sheen of perspiration broke out over the scarred brow before the red lips tightened against the tremor running through them and slowly, near imperceptibly, he began to lower himself to his knees.  
  
Draco let a hand drop to smooth back through the ebony strands before lifting both arms to brace against the wall, watching interestedly as Potter raised trembling hands to unfasten his Quidditch uniform, the laces drawing yet tighter as the blond's flesh rose and stiffened further within its confines as the Gryffindor trailed clumsy fingertips back and forth over the knots.  
  
With an almost startled breath of pleasure, Draco was slowly, agonisingly released, inch by inch as the laces were drawn away. He found himself stood, braced over a kneeling Harry Potter at his feet, clad from head to toe in his leather Quidditch practice gear, cock standing proud and free, unerringly aiming its already moistening crown towards Potter's bright, beautiful, bitten red lips.  
  
He breathed out slowly. Moments such as this had to be savoured because anything this perfect would never come again, nothing this good could ever get better…  
  
Harry brought up a shaking hand to tentatively close shivering fingertips about the root and, licking his lips and lifting suddenly scared green eyes up to Draco's face, gave one long, aching pull from base to tip.  
  
"Potter…." Draco breathed, lost, groundless for a dizzying, shaken moment, eyes fixed on Harry's eyes before watching, entranced as Potter parted those perfect lips and placed them against the weeping head, a single tear abruptly streaked downwards as the brunet let his lips catch and drag as he kissed and suckled at the tip.  
  
"Fuck," Draco breathed, stilling his hips from slamming forward and fucking the mouth so nervously offered him 'til it bled, choosing instead to let his palm skate down the wall to cradle Potter's jaw, his thumb slipping up to catch the tear and press it into the underside of the Gryffindor’s distended lower lip as it gently held its grip against his crown.  
  
"Harry." He murmured soothingly and the green eyes blinked up at him, obscured by glasses and spiky wet lashes and a soft whimper left the Gryffindor as a little more of Draco's cock slid in then back out of his mouth. Something in Draco twisted. Something dark and unknown in the base of his stomach and he didn't like it, not one bit. Potter's eyes flickered shut and he moved his hand, the gentlest shift of grip to steady the now throbbing length as he leaned in closer, trying to take more into his mouth, the same small, hurt noise emitting when the head made contact with his throat.  
  
Draco couldn't stand it. Fisting his fingers into the brunet’s locks, he yanked Harry up and away, increasing pressure so the Gryffindor was forced to stand, shocked and slick-lipped, panting against the wall as Draco crushed him in place, cock beating in protest in Potter's hand between their bodies as the cool air hit it.  
  
"Tears, Potter?" He twisted the dark head to lick the offending moisture away, perhaps with a little more force than was necessary, his own hand skating down to press insistently at Potter's groin. Nothing.  
  
He ground his teeth together for a moment, furious that for some reason he couldn't seem to force Potter back to his knees and all the way down onto his aching, dripping prick. He moved his hand across to Potter's nervous clasp about him, taking hold of the slim wrist there and easy it gently into motion, back and forth, and back and forth and twisting just  _there_. He crooned encouragingly into Potter's temple and then, to his delight, the fingers began moving of their own accord and Harry leaned into his body, face hidden in Draco's throat.  
  
"No you don't…" Draco whispered breathlessly, turned on beyond belief at the sensation of Potter's lips, sticky with his own precum, pressed against his skin. He pulled Harry's head back up by his hair again, smiling wickedly as he saw the flash of irritation from the Gryffindor as he yanked on the roots again. "Not sure I really like tears getting in the way of your sucking my cock, Potter."  
  
Harry gasped as Draco sealed his mouth over his own moist and swiftly swelling lips, mewling mindlessly into the Slytherin's mouth as he deliberately sucked and plundered, tongue fucking Harry's mouth with a great deal of accuracy, reminding them both of the rhythm he'd set with his fingers the previous night.  
  
Shuddering at the reminder, Draco abruptly brought the hand also smeared with his own precum up to push two fingers between their clinging lips and tongues, opening his eyes to watch Harry's open in turn, wide, surprised and… was that  _pleased_  to find himself forced to lick and suckle at the proffered digits as Draco let his other hand rest on the brunets hip, gathering and yanking the Gryffindor's robes into his fist.  
  
He fought back a grin as slowly Potter's ankles, calves, knee's then finally, beautiful long thighs, clenching and leanly muscled in the moonlight as Draco twisted the excess material into his fist, knotting it in place just an inch shy of the darker boys sleeping prick, moving his hand round to harshly grip the rounded buttocks, holding them apart and loving the mewl and twitch of excitement the action produced, muttering receptively as Harry's fingers slipped and sped on his own flesh.  
  
"Wetter." He breathed, pulling back to shove his fingers deeper in and to his surprise the Gryffindor moaned, deep and resonating through both their chests, eyes open and fixed, half-lidded and hot on Draco's face as he let his mouth fall wide, the Slytherin's digits now fucking his mouth with disturbingly wet sounds that had Draco twitching rhythmically in Potter's grasp.  
  
After a moment of breathless, heated staring as Harry's red lips got redder around Draco's skin, he pulled his fingers free with a pop, crowding close and insinuating himself between those thighs, dipping oh so slightly to twist his hand round, fingers already pressing at Potter's hole, the inarticulate cry wrenched from Harry's mouth almost enough to send Draco toppling over the edge.  
  
He pushed in, hard and spared a second to feel something akin to regret when Potter winced and arched away from his touch, still a little too dry and sore from before, white teeth biting into that lush lower lip, soft mewls of pain trembling over Draco's skin as he dove forwards again seizing Potter's mouth and biting down himself as he twisted and pressed up for Potter's sweet spot.  
  
Harry sobbed something, unknown and mostly unheard against Draco's mouth, grinding back onto his fingers and Draco tore his head back, growling and gripping the back of Potter's upper thigh brutally. "Lift your leg up." He spat, too lost in focus for softness 'til Potter leant back into the wall, one long white thigh lifted to prop itself at Draco's hip, body wide open and lost beneath his touch. He yanked his fingers free, heedless of the wild cry bursting out from the brunet, lifting his hand to spit onto his hand before thrusting three fingers back inside Harry.  
  
The loud 'clunk' of Harry's head meeting the wall thrilled Draco only slightly less than that wide-eyed gaze glazing over and the near silent gasps issuing forth as Draco thrust and fucked his fingers into his body, hips crashing forward to finally press and achingly hard erection of his own against Draco's. Harry's hand fell away from its clasp about Draco's hot flesh but the Slytherin forgave him instantly as Potter bucked and cried, thrusting forward against Draco's cock and then back onto his hand, arms twining up to cling and steady himself about the blond's shoulders, whimpering throughout.  
  
"Yes, Potter…. Yes." Draco hissed and twisted his hand before crushing his mouth back over Harry's and letting his hips and fingers talk for him.  
  
A few aching, grinding seconds passed and suddenly the Boy Who Lived started sobbing, shuddering, actually sucking on the tip of Draco's tongue, hips thrashing back and forth and, as Draco briefly considered pulling away to watch, long, shining strands of come erupted from the Gryffindor to streak over and across Draco's still leather clad chest and torso, near screaming Draco's name back against his lips.  
  
“Good Boy,” Draco whispered, letting Harry sag against him, catching his breath and idly wondering whether he could carry off scooping up some of the Gryffindor's come from his uniform and feeding it back to him. “Good boy.”  
  
Slowly, Harry lifted his head from where it had dropped into the crook of Draco’s neck, blinking hazy eyes into the Slytherin’s grey gaze, murmuring drowsily as Draco pressed a last harsh kiss to his lips before he found that same hand hard at his nape.  
  
“And now, Potter,” Draco was breathless with need by now and entirely too likely to explode all over the brunets pretty face before he even got to it, “Suck me.”  
  
Draco could have screamed, in fact he wasn’t entirely certain he hadn’t, only the corridors near silence convincing him he hadn’t, the gasping panted breaths from Harry the only sound to drown his senses.   
  
Firm hands had gripped his hips, almost as his words left his lips, Harry already sinking to his knees and if he lacked any real skill in the act then he more than made up for it with the tiny noise of pleasure he made when Draco’s cock slid neatly, wetly over his lips and deep into his throat, his own come mixing with Draco’s precum making his flesh so slick that Harry only needed to bob his head back and forth to set the Slytherin’s cock gliding smoothly back and forth over his tongue.  
  
So this was dying, Draco mused from a far off point, wondering just why the Chang bitch had never made his blood seethe in his veins like this, why her practised deep throating would never ever match up to the inexperienced way Potter let his teeth drag over so slightly over his foreskin, suckling loudly and wetly at the head in a sloppy kiss before diving back down to swallow as much as he could take.  
  
“Fuck, yeah,” Draco whimpered, unable to help slamming his hips forward to push the entirety of his length into Potter’s willing mouth, fucking the Gryffindor's throat with short sharp thrusts and damn near expiring when the Gryffindor crooned a low, enthusiastic ‘Mmm’ on every instroke “Take it, Potter, take it… I,”  
  
Draco’s eyes actually teared up as every cell in his body rebelled and rose up against him when so wanted, fucking longed for this moment to never end.  
  
“Potter…” He gasped, so nearly lost when Harry tilted his head up to match eyes to his, the tip just sliding back into his mouth as their gazes locked and Draco gave his final command with the very last breath he had. “Swallow.”  
  
Harry blinked, wide eyes deliciously surprised before closing on a long moan that had Draco sobbing out once more and bucking, letting Harry swallow his cock along with his come as it shot into the Gryffindor’s waiting throat, his cries echoing throughout the corridor as the world spun on its axis.  
  
Harry Potter sucked his cock and drank down every drop. He wanted those words on his gravestone, assuming he’d never recover from the blackness pulling at the edges of his vision but then there were firm hands holding him upright, helping him down as his knees buckled and breath sobbed from his lungs.  
  
They lay there, each panting and shell-shocked, stuck to each other with come, sweat and sticky leather before an ominous sound threw them both into action.  
  
“Mrrrow.”  
  
Shooting bolt upright once more, head reeling, Draco strongly considered hexing Mrs Norris to the nearest Basilisk. “Fuck.” He snarled and began yanking at his laces.  
  
Harry stood on shaking legs, pale now and looking slowly more alarmed by the moment.  
  
“Well? Get the fuck out of here Potter, you’ve got that cloak, get going before Filch catches up to his fucking feline cohort already!”  
  
Harry blinked. “What about you?” The words were barely human, his voice box fucked raw by Draco’s cock and for a moment they both froze, utterly stilled by the realisation of what had just occurred.  
  
“Potter, I’m a Prefect. Get the fuck out of here.” Draco snapped, hating how oddly responsible he felt for the pallor of the brunet’s skin, sighing with something far too close to relief as the Gryffindor blinked out of sight behind a thick swathe of material once more.  
  
Footsteps could be heard closing in and Draco assumed his best righteous sneer, ready to see off the pathetic squib so idiotically stalking them.   
  
“Potter.” He hissed suddenly, almost too late as Filch closed in on him. The moonlight swung and held briefly in one focused spot and Draco licked his lips.  
  
“Come back tomorrow.”


	3. The Challenge Claimed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 of the 'Porn War Against Dreambastion for Making me Squirm in Company' series.  
> Summary: Malfoys don't wait...

**The Challenge Claimed:**

Draco Malfoy let his head rest back against the cold stone, swallowing down the bile and fury and (worst of all) humiliation.  
  
Potter was a no-show.  
  
Draco had whipped through the corridors, docking points from students left and right in his fevered anticipation of the night before him, actually forced, nearly from the moment he woke 'til now, to keep from laughing with delight. He had arrived slightly early but, he had rationalised, that was simply to make up for being so late the previous night.  
  
And so he waited. Potter was an hour late, but then he'd been later so perhaps the Gryffindor had decided to show later so he had continued his vigil. Two hours, that had been how long he'd kept the other boy waiting and he would be foolish to expect him any sooner.  
  
But then, two hours had passed. A nerve began to leap and clench in the Slytherin's grit jaw, and at some point he'd found himself sat on the hard, chilled stone, back against the wall and torn between hate so strong it ached and disappointment that had his eyes hot and prickling.  
  
Three hours passed. Then four, five... By the time Draco's elbows were on his knees, his forehead resting in his cupped palms, it was a whole new day and the sky was blooming towards the slow burn into dawn.  
  
Now his head was clear and cold in the spreading light, propped against the stone as his fingers dug into his robes, near piercing the chilled and shaking flesh of his legs as he pushed himself upright.  
  
Potter was a fucking coward and that was that.  
  
Draco would resume his hatred, so easy to pick up those carefully woven threads of resentment and despair until he had the kind of raging fire that could consume this niggling, pathetic interest, the tiny, clinging fragment of hunger that had made him long for Potter for far,  _far_  too long.   
  
This... this 'whatever' it was... was over.  
  
Almost.  
  
Draco rolled his shoulders and rose, skin flushed golden, gleaming and malevolent in the slowly spreading sunrise, trembling with fatigue and fury.  
  
There was one thread left yet to cut.  
  
  
*****************  
  
Harry Potter shifted his satchel higher on his shoulders, blinking wearily as he stumbled through the empty corridors. He was late, having spent precious minutes being lectured by Professor McGonagall for his apparent lack of attention in class, then being cosseted and exclaimed over as he explained the nature of his inattention, still pale and fatigued after his long night.  
  
It was infrequent now, due to his occlumency, that Voldemort found a crack for which to pour forth his venom and hate, his sick deeds painted in blood across Harry's mind with horrific detail, but the Gryffindor had nodded off, waiting for his chance to slip out unseen, his heart and mind wide open, unguarded.  
  
By the time Ron had been able to wake him, screaming and breathless, he'd barely found time to stumble into the bathroom to throw up, before running to Dumbledore's office. He'd tried to snatch an hour of sleep after the meeting but by that time the sun was up and he found himself too raw to rest.  
  
Now he was late for Divination and Trelawney, by now, would have assumed he had sadly fallen out of a poorly situated window en route to class and would be delightedly mourning him to the other students.  
  
Sighing, he strode through the hallways, approaching the staircase, wincing as the light filled corridors blazed through his thick lenses and squinting as a figure stepped out into the golden autumn rays.  
  
Harry shuffled to a stop.  
  
Malfoy.  
  
Before he had time to do more than suck in a breath to apologise, explain, excuse... 'something', the Slytherin was in his space, glaring down, fists tight in his robe front and teeth bared into his face.  
  
"Malfoy's," the blond hissed, eyes wild and dangerous like liquid mercury, "Do not wait for _anyone_ , Potter. You are through, finished...  _Done For_ , you understand me?"   
  
He practically flung Harry against the wall in his haste to release him, fierce and finally in touch with his own power as he let his righteous fury roll through him, letting his lip roll back over bright, gleaming teeth in a sneer as he turned to stalk away.  
  
But something held him back. Two hands at the robes across his shoulders, to be exact. Spinning, snarling he found himself with the Boy Who Lived, determined and clinging, arching into his body.  
  
"Wait," Harry gasped, fistfuls of Draco's robes seized at chest height to help drag himself upwards, "Ah, wait..." And he pressed his mouth against the Slytherin's, lips tight against bared teeth, shuddering and starting as Draco's teeth flashed open then closed sharply over his mouth and bit down, hard. He whimpered and pulled backwards, taking this as rejection only to find himself flung back against the wall, Draco's tongue already stabbing deep into his mouth.  
  
When the blond drew back for air, Harry was sagged against him, shaking and desperate. "I was going to, was only waiting but I was so tired I just drifted off and then there was blood and screaming and death and then I had to go, had to see Dumbledore and by the time I got back it was breakfast and I, I... I just forgot by that time and it was too late and I..." He broke off, panting, watching Draco's stony sullen face before pushing back upwards into his embrace, licking at his jaw and nipping sharply at the corners of his mouth.  
  
"Tonight." He whispered, and broke himself free, snatching up his satchel and backing towards the stairs, "I promise."  
  
The Slytherin nodded once, and Harry felt relief course through him, turning to ascend the flight.  
  
"Potter." He paused, looking back over his shoulder at the still quietly stiff boy. Draco's eyes flashed before heavy lids settled low again, "I won't wait."  
  
Harry swallowed. "I understand." He whispered then bolted up to his class leaving the Slytherin confused and frustrated, back propped once more against the stone.  
  
  
***********************  
  
He was a fool. A lust-blinded, incomprehensibly stupid ridiculous  _idiot_!  
  
Between their crossed timing previously, Draco had expected (gods...  _hoped_ ) to see Potter between 11pm and 1am, guts already churning & seething with the remembrance of his dawn vigil... and it was coming up for 2:15am.  
  
He shook with the horror of his mortification, white-knuckled and almost sick with fury. He'd told Potter he wouldn't wait, sworn it to himself, in fact.  
  
And here he was, waiting.  
  
'Perhaps he's with Dumbledore again' a traitorous voice within whispered, 'Perhaps it's not his fault'.  
  
Draco's nails bit into the soft skin of his palm and hot blood rushed through his veins to burn behind his eyes.   
  
No, he seethed, suddenly breaking free of the hope that had bound him in place in the draughty old corridor for far too long, stalking away down the corridor. Potter had  _promised_ , given his word and that was meant to stand for something, it wasn't an oath made to be flung away, meaningless and untrue, and he would pay this time. No sweet, persistent kisses would sway him from his vengeance this time.  
  
Stumbling, near blind with ire by this point, he swung into the corridor leading down to the dungeons before a quiver, a tiny bolt of something truly powerful shot down his spine.  
  
_Potter_  
  
He paused, mid-step, and listened, needing to hear that swish, the sweep of fabric over stone as the blasted git followed at his heels. He stood, adrift between the walls directly in the middle of the walkway, Potions workrooms lining the walls around him, eyes closed as he centred his senses on tracking that thing, that abrupt tremor of awareness that told him the Gryffindor was near.  
  
There. What was that? It sounded almost like...?  
  
Draco blinked. It sounded like exactly what it was, the unmistakable sound of bristles on metal. Someone was cleaning cauldrons... at gone 2am?  
  
He walked slowly, near silently to the door one back from his former position, to his right, peering through the tiny crack of the partially open door.  
  
Fury lashed through him, white-hot and relentless. Here, on his knees, sleeves rolled up and apparently focused on his task of caldron scouring when he should have, Draco snarled internally, at least sighing and sulking, better yet not there at all, but back in their moonlit hallway letting the Slytherin do unspeakable things to his body.  
  
Well, there was time yet to do so.  
  
"Evening Potter," He spat, flinging the door wide, arms crossed over his chest to keep from rushing over and throttling the Gryffindor, "Enjoying yourself? Must be really  _marvellous_  to clean all those cauldrons or else, one would assume, you'd keep your prior appointments."  
  
Harry had stiffened, grime from his fingernails to his elbows, a smear across his nose and jaw and Draco bristled with the urge to further rub it into his skin.  
  
"Malfoy, I was on my way to you..." Draco's blood surged at the sweetness of those few words but stalked forwards, glowering and vicious still, "But I ran into Snape, was going to fast didn't have my cloak on properly and he saw my feet, said if I had no reason to be in bed like everyone else then I should put my time to good use in here and I, I..." he broke off as Draco yanked him to his feet "... I was coming, I... wh... what are you doing?" He uttered breathlessly and Draco's teeth gleamed white in more a sneer than a smile.  
  
"We don't wait Potter, but we  _do_  keep our appointments, no matter how delayed."  
  
Throwing him back a step or so, he stepped over the paraphernalia of Potter's cleaning, he possessed himself of the front of the Gryffindor's robes, using his own bodyweight to crush the smaller boy back against the hard lip of a wooden desk where it lined the dark walls around them. He crashed his mouth down over otter's a moment, yanking back the second he felt the smaller boy begin to respond, determined to not let himself be swayed as he had that afternoon.  
  
Pushing Potter into place, Draco stood back, observing the brunet cowering against the desk, flushed and mouth bright with the imprint of his and smiled as coolly as he could manage.  
  
"Hike up your robes, Potter, and turn around."  
  
Harry's eyes were wide behind his glasses. "Wh... what?"  
  
Draco's lips thinned. "We agreed, Potter, what I would do to you and as I see it we're way behind and," he lifted his hand to gently caress Potter's chin before slowly sliding his pale fingers about the long throat, "I believe you 'promised' me, Gryffindor."  
  
"N... no, not here." Harry whispered, breathlessly, urgent. "Snape could come back any second, I'm surprised he's not come back already I..." He broke off choking as Draco's fingers squeezed tighter.  
  
"I tire of your excuses, Potter." He bit out slowly, dropping his hand to trail a lone finger down the centre of the brunets chest, "Now, I suggest you give me what I want..." he let abruptly dangerous silver eyes flash back up to Harry's, "Or else I'll  _take_  it."  
  
He felt (and rather relished) the shiver that passed through the Gryffindor. Harry shook his head mutely, eyes rather over bright behind those blasted lenses.  
  
"No," he whispered, "Snape's coming back, you know he is, you can't, not here I... I won't."  
  
Draco cocked a silver brow "Because you don't want me to fuck you or because you don't want anyone to 'see' me fuck you?"  
  
Harry simply shook his head again and edged ever so slightly sideways.  
  
Draco lunged for him, the ferocity of their collision enough to knock each boy to the ground, rolling as suddenly Harry was fighting back, teeth and hands and legs and hips all slamming upwards to try to knock Draco from his position atop him and just at the moment Draco thought he had the writhing boy under control he discovered an almost sharp wand tip back against the hollow of his throat.  
  
"I. Said. No." Harry panted harshly and was surprised, wide eyed and stiff when Draco pressed his flesh harder against the Holly, dipping his head just close enough to lick a trail of sweat from Harry's brow.  
  
"I. Don't. Care." he breathed back and Harry quivered once, limbs gentling just enough for Draco to clumsily thrust an arm between them, yanking Harry's wrist to the ground and pulling the wand from him to send it clattering off into the darkness. He let his full weight fall back against Harry, crushing him into the cold floor and dropping his head further to snatch a wild, open mouth kiss against the Gryffindor's outraged, wide lips, tongue-fucking the moist space expertly and groaning when the brunets strong teeth clamped down over that slick muscle.  
  
He pulled back slightly, grunting as Potter released his tongue and on a whim he snatched Harry's glasses from his face, also tossing them over his shoulder, disappointed when no sound of shattering met his ears as he pressed his forehead tight against the Gryffindor's.  
  
"I need to be inside you." He muttered in a voice so guttural as to surprise even himself, grinding his hips down against the Gryffindor's.  
  
"Y... you can't... Snape..."  
  
Draco sighed, almost amused "Have you not leaned 'not' to tell me I can't fuck you yet, Potter?"  
  
"But... but you 'can't'." Harry whispered, words belying the slowly stiffening hardness beginning to make itself known against Draco's midsection.  
  
"Don't make me make you." The Slytherin growled, meaning the words for once. He'd prefer Potter parted his thighs and made those soft noises he liked so much and welcomed Draco into his body than to have to make Potter want it. Of course that didn't mean he wouldn't do it.  
  
"Last chance here Potter. Yes, or No?"  
  
A shudder ran through the lithe form and Draco felt a momentary pang as something too raw flashed in Potter's eyes. "No." he whispered and bucked, hard, hard enough to throw Draco off him just enough to shoot to his feet.  
  
So, it was going to be like this was it? Draco found himself smiling. "Good Boy." He whispered, idly noting how often the phrase came to mind with the Gryffindor, before springing to his feet.  
  
He managed to seize a handful or so of Potters robes as he dove in the direction his wand had gone, Draco laughing aloud in delight as he heard the tell-tale crunch of Potter's spectacles beneath one of them as they ran. Using his own body to swing Potter, pendulum style, back in the opposite direction, he released him as he struck the desk once more, whipping out his wand to bond Harry, again, to the surface he was sprawled against.  
  
"NO... No, I, I said No Malfoy... c'mon..."  
  
Draco stepped behind Harry and, with no great delight, pushed his robes up past his waist, just short of where his ribs and hands remained glued to the scarred wood surface. The Gryffindor turned his head, able to look back, blinking towards the blur that was Draco and swallowed hard, not so much trembling now as unable to keep his bones still beneath his skin. "Please Draco....  _Please_?"  
  
Draco stiffened, before bending over the mostly prone form, flush against Harry 'til he could nose into the dark hair by Potters temple. "Say my name again."  
  
"Drr... Draco."  
  
"Now say please again, say 'please Draco'."  
  
"...Please, please Draco..."  
  
Draco was harder than he'd been in days, aching to just yank the brunets cheeks apart and thrust in but something didn't fit, what had been exciting reluctance before now felt like...  _wrong_.  
  
"Now say... 'Please Draco... Fuck me'."  
  
No response.  
  
Draco bent lower, long clever fingers beneath Harry's chin to turn it back to his, briefly pressing his mouth against the bitten red flesh, before letting it drift across the cool, shadowed skin of Potter's jaw. "I promise, if I hear Snape coming I'll stop, Potter. I'll make it so fucking good you won't care even if he did walk in... like the sound of that?"  
  
"N... No." Harry's voice was stony.  
  
"Say it." Draco hissed and closed his eyes in hope, anticipation.  
  
A beat passed, the night swirling silently about them.  
  
And then...  
  
"Please Draco," Harry's voice couldn't have been softer if he'd been a ghost, "Please, fuck me."  
  
Nothing. Draco waited for his flesh to surge and pound but the dead note to Harry's voice was killing it for him.  
  
"Potter," he breathed harshly, "Could I get that again, like you mean it?"  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Potter... say it like you want this..."  
  
He drifted a hand down to press a finger against Potter's tightly clenched hole, waiting for something, anything that would make him feel less like...  
  
" _Please._.." So soft, too soft.  
  
"What was that, Potter?"  
  
" _Draco... please_." The words were still too quiet, too gentle with seeming hurt but Potter was trying and that, Draco smirked, he could work with.  
  
"If I release you from the charm, Potter, what are the chances you'll stay put?"  
  
Harry's head shot round to lift a brow at him and Draco could have crowed with delight at the show of spirit.  
  
"Not good."  
  
"Alright then, how about this...." And he unbound Potter's chest from the table, Harry automatically yanking backwards as though to flee, cursing loud and lewdly as his hands remained firmly stuck, palm down, to the wood before him.  
  
"Dear oh dear, Potter. Ah well, at least I know you were telling the truth but now I see I really do have you... what to do with you?"  
  
Harry cast him a speaking look, still panting and quivering, over one hunched shoulder. "I believe there was some talk of fucking me." He rasped and Draco damn near lost it on the spot just hearing it said so glibly.  
  
"Oh yes," he hissed, aligning himself to Potter's back, wrapping his arms tight a moment to glory in the boy crushed tightly against him before lifting his hand up to the Gryffindor's face. "How could I forget? But first things first." He proffered two fingers before Harry's lips and moaned long and loud when they were drawn in without even a hint of hesitation.  
  
"Really wet them," he panted, "This is going to be hard and fast Potter, so be ready."  
  
The Gryffindor spat his fingers from his mouth and glared over his shoulder once more, "Fuck you." He snarled softly and a shudder of desire coursed through Draco. Gods but he loved it when the 'Hero' fought back.  
  
"No, no" He corrected gently, stepping back and kicking Harry's feet apart, "Fuck _You_ , Potter." And he shoved two fingers inside him.  
  
The brunet sobbed harshly, and bucked, back arching as he seemed to pull himself away from the questing intruders before abruptly shoving back, hard, against Draco's hand. The blond quivered, pulling his hand free, loving the small grunt of displeasure the loss brought forth from the smaller boy before spitting noisily onto the back of his fingers and repositioning three against Harry's already heated form.  
  
"Three now Potter," he ground out harshly, other hand dropping to scrabble madly at the tailored trousers he'd worn precisely for the plan of unzipping and unleashing himself. "Push back, show me that Gryffindor spirit of yours."  
  
And Harry did, and as his body eagerly swallowed Draco's digits into such heat and tightness that would normally only haunt Draco's dreams, he finally managed to free his cock, caressing it lovingly with his spare hand, moaning as it beat in time with Potter's perfect thrusts back against his hand.  
  
"Yeah," he whispered throatily, fisting himself a little harder than he'd planned, "Fuck yourself on me, fuck yeah... you're such a slut for my fingers Potter. Not sure which you liked sucking more, them or my cock."  
  
His hand slipped back and forth and suddenly, he realised there was no way he was going to get inside Potter's tight body without blowing his load half an inch in. He twisted his hand cruelly in reaction and the brunet yelped and bucked, shaking as his body rejected the too emphatic gesture against his tender inside walls, Draco's fingers abruptly popping free as Harry stiffened instead of pushing back.  
  
Draco should have cared, should have asked if he'd hurt the other boy, but his eyes were fixed on Harry's now gaping hole where the muscle now clenched and spasmed just slightly too wide, too pink from misuse. Fingers that had shoved so bluntly into him were now filling themselves with firm white flesh, holding the cheeks apart so that Draco might continue to watch and gasp as his cock strained forward in his slipping clasp, towards that flexing dark hole.  
  
"Ah god," Draco gasped, his hand now slapping wetly back and forth across himself, "Going to fuck you so hard." He whispered, watching the tremor that raced down the back of Potter's thighs, legs spreading wider as Potter bent further forward, deliberately offering his tight, hot entrance to the Slytherin. " _So hard_..."  
  
And then Draco erupted, long, thick liquid jets of come arcing between the firm globes of Potter's arse, the Gryffindor flinching as the fluid struck him, dribbling over his hole and collecting there, some already seeping into his open body as Draco stiffened and yelled, fingers digging into skin, both his and Potter's, in ecstasy.  
  
When his gaze refocused, Draco found himself in difficulty dragging his eyes from the gleaming globs of come oozing over Potter's anus, slowly slipping down to drip over his balls catching his breath when he did finally lift his gaze.  
  
Harry, open mouthed and hurt, staring back at him over his shoulder and it was as though the Gryffindor had struck Draco, so acutely did he feel the pain there. Betrayal, it was written all over Potter's face, sung in every nerve ending as his body quivered and his previously hard flesh softened in ill-disguised disappointment.  
  
"You said you'd fuck me." Draco didn't see Potter's mouth move, would have sworn it hadn't but the words filled his head so thoroughly he was near blind and deafened by them.  
  
He lunged forward, precum sticky hand shoved deep into jet black locks and twisting Harry upwards so he could better seize his mouth.  
  
"Still going to fuck you, Harry, swear it, I'm still going to I promise, so fucking hard, so deep, going to fill you up with my come..."  
  
Harry bit him. Hard.   
  
"Don't want your fucking hand, don't want you, you fucking liar. Let me go..." And he kissed him back, near breaking his back to shove his tongue up into Draco's, snarling and thrashing as he did so.  
  
"Let me go you selfish mother-fucking shit," he spat, hips thrust back against Draco's still semi-hard cock, "You've had your fun now turn me loose, let me go, let me go or I'll fucking KILL you!!!"  
  
Draco let him go, but only his hair, pulling back out of thrashing range to drop, grabbing Harry's hips, to his knees, licking the back of one clenching thigh as he did so, throwing the Gryffindor a look of sheer filth from under his lashes as Harry's words stumbled to halt, eyes wide over his shoulder.  
  
Draco parted his lips, extended his tongue so that the near perfectly triangular tip was exposed before licking a long streak up between Harry's cheeks, flushing deeply as his own come struck his taste buds. He sat back, licking his lips, confused and appalled by his behaviour but hopelessly lost to the astonishment in Potter's eyes, the wild trembling in his thighs.  
  
"Going to push my come so deep in you, you'll taste it." He whispered, unaware of the words before wrenching Harry's cheeks apart and stabbing his tongue inside him, jerking as the sour, sharp taste of himself mixed with the heat of Potter's darkness.  
  
Harry, already straining at his bonds, gaped for a moment before the sensation of having Draco Malfoy shove his tongue into him overrode his shock and the reality of the situation struck him.  
  
He threw his head back and screamed, voice shattering before it could reach a pitch to alarm others patrolling to halls, the keening, desperate sound echoing in the room before being abruptly bitten off as Draco pulled back to roughly stab and swipe with his tongue, doing (as he'd said) his very best to push his come inside the Gryffindor.  
  
"Oh _god_ ," Harry whispered raggedly, spreading his legs as wide as he could get them, aroused beyond comprehension by the almost obscene slurping noises at his entrance, bending lower to press his heated cheek to the cool surface of the desk and further opening himself to Malfoy's ministrations. "This is so wrong." He murmured and let his eyes fall shut, a cry hauled deep from his gut when Draco pushed two fingers in alongside his tongue.  
  
Draco sat back, flexing his jaw and grimacing slightly. Whilst delighted that Potter had obviously taken the time to fully clean himself in expectation of their ill-fated 'tryst', he couldn't say that tongue-fucking his arsehole was an exceptionally pleasant nor comfortable experience. Then again, he twisted his fingers, pushing his thumb tip in to push wide against the barrier muscle, Potter was making those irresistible little noises again... soft little mewls & murmurs as he pushed his hips back to take anything Draco would put in him, whimpering and jerking when the Slytherin twisted & teased.   
  
The blond's blood surged and fizzed beneath his skin a moment as he closed his eyes to just absorb the sounds... they were precisely the noises that had made him want to fuck Potter in the first place. He glanced downwards and grinned, grateful for his varied sexual encounters that had apparently trained him well.   
  
There was hope yet.  
  
Pushing to his feet and ignoring the ominous crack from kneeling on the cold stone, he withdrew his fingers, biting his lip in pleasure at the sob the action brought forth in the Gryffindor.  
  
Stepping close, he let the rapidly refilling tip of his cock nudge gently into the hot, wet indentation at the opening to Harry's body, smiling when the brunets head shot up and around to match wide eyes to his.  
  
"Tell me." Again the words fell from his lips unbidden, but to watch the green eyes blur yet further and darken even in the shadows, he wondered if he could have planned the better with days to spare. "Say it..."  
  
"Fuck me... Draco. Please, fuck me."   
  
Was that Harry's voice, that harsh rasp of sibilant submission? He slid a long white hand over the Gryffindor's rucked robes, sliding out to spread from shoulder down to wrist, wand in hand, whispering words of release to each hand before he had time to consider his actions.  
  
Harry straightened, looking at his reddened palms and back at Draco, just behind him, rigid and rosy flesh still standing proud between them, bobbing demandingly in the brunet's direction, almost as though begging.  
  
He turned, slowly, aware that his robes now whispered back down his body to their normal position, unable to miss the flare of disappointment in the Slytherin's eyes, quickly stamped out as the material draped and moulded itself to Harry's own stiff flesh in passing, making it only too clear how mutual the moment had become.  
  
"Get me wet." Draco commanded, ignoring the crack in his voice for the soft slide of Potter to his knees, a shaking hand reaching up as before to cradle and pull gently at his flesh, guiding the sticky tip past those gorgeous red lips before laving the head generously with his tongue.  
  
He relished the sensation of softness a moment, the soft inner walls of Potter's mouth slick and silken against him, feeling the saliva coating him even as he gently eased Harry back off of him.  
  
"Stand, like you were before but use your hands... open yourself for me."  
  
Trembling so violently it was clearly visible, Harry rose, turning to press his upper chest and face against the wood, bent so that he could reach back, drag his robes back upwards over his hips, bare to the Slytherin's gaze before obediently holding his cheeks open for Draco, thighs jerking and juddering as he spread them wider than comfort dictated.  
  
"Oh  _god_..." he muttered desperately as he felt Draco step close once more, biting his lip to keep back the urgent whimpers, both of negation and acceptance and bucking slightly beneath the blond's touch as he trailed smooth fingers up from his hole to the small of his back.  
  
"This will probably hurt." Draco mused aloud, conscious of the lack of moisture normally supplied by females in this state, yet positioning his gleaming cockhead at the quivering, open muscle. "Take me in Potter, I know you can..."  
  
He pressed the tip tight to Potter's hole, shivering himself as he watched a tremor of sensation race over the brunet's skin, pushing in just enough to breach, desperate to seize the hips and slam home, make Potter take him as deep and hard as he could, but holding, stilled, lost in the sound of Potter's soft cry of pain as the head popped through.  
  
"Try to push back again for me, come on Potter, c'mon, fuck yourself on me..."  
  
Harry sobbed, breathless and gasping and tried to push back against his locked, clenching thighs, whimpering loudly, tears in his eyes as Draco's cock slid a bare centimetre deeper, the clinging flesh and muscle of his channel already gripping too tight, too faithfully to let the Slytherin thrust home.  
  
"H... _hurts_." He murmured brokenly and listened as Draco brought up a palm and spat into it, once, twice, then a third laboured time.  
  
"Too dry," Draco told him casually as though he weren't an inch deep in Potter's arsehole, before stroking the flesh still outside the Gryffindor's clenching, aching, body, slicking it with as much saliva as he could before trying a small push forward, clenching his teeth at Harry's hurt cry.  
  
"Easy, Potter." he soothed, running a hand around to seek out and stroke the brunets rapidly wilting hardness, "Just keep going, push back... you can take me... Good Boy."  
  
And Potter did push back, worthy and hopelessly courageous to the last, breath seeming to catch and whistle in his throat on a strangled sobbing gasp that flooded through to Draco's core like quicksilver, jerking his hips forward in reaction and unintentionally burying himself to the root.  
  
_Oh god, oh god so hot so tight...  
_  
Harry whimpered and moaned, face pressed tight against the wood, riding out the wave of pain that cascaded over his body at the sudden entry, already pushing his buttocks against Draco's thighs and thrashing in response to the sensations of the Slytherin's balls pressed tight against his.  
  
Slowly, hand still absently stroking at Potter's semi-softened flesh, Draco drew his hips back, ears whistling with the gasps that poured forth from each boy, Harry at the loss of heat and pressure, Draco with the overpowering sight of his cock sliding in Harry Potter's arsehole.  
  
He pushed back in and was rewarded with that same ' _Hhuh_ ' sound, the little breathless catch that had followed him through his days since first shoving his fingers into the resisting boy beneath him, biting his lip as he pulled nearly free once more, noting the alteration of pitch and feeling in Potter's whimpers.  
  
In, one hard stroke to hear the breath expelled from the Gryffindor's lungs, then out, just far enough to thrust in again, hard this time as all thoughts of gentleness fled, Harry's rumbling groans and gasps so much  _better_  when Draco fucked him this way, quick hard strokes, pulling out fast to shove in deep, hard, over and over, the shaft within his fingers thickening and lengthening once more despite the wounded cries falling from Potter's lips.  
  
Potter's lips.  
  
With a last brutal thrust that had Potter arching so hard he banged his own head back against the desk, fingernails biting into his soft buttocks, Draco pulled all the way clear and stepped back, breathing harshly and already feeling as though he might shatter and die if he didn't reclaim his rightful place inside Harry.  
  
"Up!" He yanked at Harry with clawed hands, trying to push the weak and trembling boy up onto the wood. "On the desk, quickly, on your back...."  
  
Harry rolled over onto his back, body spasming from top to tail, Draco pushing his feet up onto the ledge, his legs wide and braced against the lip before scowling, seizing him by the hips and jerking him forward so that his buttocks rested against the lip, thighs pushed up against his chest, arms flung high and boneless above him.  
  
Gently, surprisingly so, the blond eased his palms under Harry's hips, tilting them so that when he stepped close, his cock was already nudging, already beating against the loose flesh to be granted admission. Silver eyes flickered over Harry's equally stiff cock, across his sprawled limbs and flushed face.  
  
"S... sit up a bit." He bit out hoarsely, Harry surprised to hear the quaver in his voice, groaning as the action of propping his elbows behind him and easing his torso upwards helped Draco glide an inch or so inside him. The Slytherin's hips jerked and he grunted in response, eyes squeezed tight shut before fixing them, fierce and demanding, on Harry, diving down to wrap fingers about the brunets nape, kissing him deeply before thrusting cleanly inside him, all the way to the root.  
  
Harry jerked beneath him, mouth wide on a shout of pleasure but Draco drank it down, stabbing into his mouth with his tongue as surely as he had his hole, both murmuring and crying out as Harry's legs cramped, unfolding to wrap tight about Draco's hips, bracing himself against the battery of the Slytherin's pelvis into his own.  
  
"Fuck yeah," Draco muttered harshly, nipping Harry's lips with sharp white teeth before pulling away to gasp against his temple, arms falling to brace from palm to elbow, flat against the wood, desk now repeatedly slamming into the stone as he slammed the Gryffindor with equal force.  
  
Harry rocked, crooning and gasping, mouth slick and sharp against his collarbone, arms wrapping about Draco's ribs and shoulders, anchoring them to each other as he stabbed and rolled his hips, rhythm lost to fevered, animal thrusting that had both their teeth rattling in their skulls, Harry's cock trapped wet and slippery between their bellies, each so close to shattering it hurt.  
  
The echoing bangs of wood on stone increased, and Draco's thighs cramped and shook, not use to such heavy handed abuse, breath sobbing in his chest as the world seemed to vibrate and shift crazily about him, barely finding the spare second to pull back before slamming home each time, swearing each time he could go no deeper then near screaming when he did, Potter's teeth pulling at his flesh as he fucked him harder, then harder and ...  _GOD_.  
  
He wanted to pull back, wanted to look right into Potter's face so he could see who owned him, see who fucked his body and claimed it as rightful property, wanted to kiss him and suck down those frenzied wild cries that had him near screaming but he couldn't, he couldn't, couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe....  
  
Draco arched, silent and trembling and poured himself into Harry, hands coming up from the table to hold him as close as possible, nails biting into skin as he still thrust in and in and deep, flooding Harry who stiffened in turn, eyes wide and wild, lost and terrified in the face of the violent, near violating pleasure that rocketed through him, turning his face and sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of Draco's throat.  
  
They lay there, weight held solely by the desk, shuddering and slick before Draco lifted his head, slowly swallowing down the much needed air, sucking in a breath too fast at the pain at his neck, hands holding Harry's wrists back against the wood as he stared in shock at the blood, the berry red stain across the Gryffindor's lips and teeth.  
  
Black eyes raked the pair, from Harry's nearly nude, wandless state, glasses broken on the floor by his scattered cleaning products to the near pristine condition of the Slytherin prefect, all but the erection still buried deep and blood spattered over the Gryffindor's teeth, long white fingers holding equally white wrists tight against the dark wood.  
  
"If you're quite finished." Severus Snape spat.


	4. Reason and Honoured, Challenged.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 4 of the 'Porn War Against dreambastion for Making me Squirm in Company' series.  
> Summary: Caught with their pants down... but what now?

**Reason & Honour... Challenged **  
  
_(previously)  
  
Draco arched, silent and trembling and poured himself into Harry, hands coming up from the table to hold him as close as possible, nails biting into skin as he still thrust in and in and deep, flooding Harry who stiffened in turn, eyes wide and wild, lost and terrified in the face of the violent, near violating pleasure that rocketed through him, turning his face and sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of Draco's throat.  
  
They lay there, weight solely held by the desk, shuddering and slick before Draco lifted his head, slowly swallowing down the much needed air, sucking in a breath too fast at the pain at his neck, hands holding Harry's wrists back against the wood as he stared in shock at the blood, the berry red stain across the Gryffindor's lips and teeth.  
  
Black eyes raked the pair, from Harry's nearly nude, wandless state, glasses broken on the floor by his scattered cleaning products to the near pristine condition of the Slytherin prefect, all but the erection still buried deep and blood spattered over the Gryffindor's teeth, long white fingers holding equally white wrists tight against the dark wood.  
  
"If you're quite finished." Severus Snape spat.  
_  
With an incoherent cry of alarm the boys broke apart, Draco so forcibly ejected from above Harry that he stumbled back, sprawling on the cold floor as the brunet scrambled down in turn yanking his robes back down, and stuttering wildly.  
  
"S, Sir, Professor, I'm sorry, I, we were just, I... I'm sorry..."  
  
"Don't apologise Mister Potter, I can see quite clearly what you  _were just_. Go directly to the Hospital Wing, myself or Madam Pomfrey will be along presently."   
  
Harry's eyes were so wide he rather thought they might roll directly out of his skull. Snape's words, though naturally acidic and abrupt, seemed almost kind as his black eyes roved up and down his pale, rumpled form.  
  
"Now, Mister Potter. Go." Harry edged, nervous, as though expecting the Professors hands to suddenly fly out and seize him, his own shaking hands on the door handle just as he looked over his shoulder, gaze back at the blond boy, still kneeling, when the Potions Masters next words struck him right in the gut.  
  
"As for  _You_ , Mister Malfoy... I am ' _appalled_ ' at this, this broach of trust, this complete and total abuse of the Head Boy position..."  
  
Draco stiffened, fingers clenching on the floor from where'd they splayed there after hastily fastening his trousers, stomach lurching under total belief that the spinning room was about to implode and swallow him whole and now.... Now??? His Housemaster’s words left a burn at the back of his throat and his head was too heavy to shake in negation.  
  
He  _couldn't_  mean...?  
  
"S...Sir...?" He tried to straighten up but his mentor lunged forwards, bitter pain and fury evident in the obsidian gaze, one clawed hand shoving down hard on his shoulders so that he remained on his knees.  
  
"How could you? How could you be so blind, so _utterly stupid_  as to do this? Did you forget who he is? Don't you know what you've _done_?"  
  
A tear leaked from each of Draco's eyes as he stared up into the only face he'd ever trusted during his years at Hogwarts.  
  
"Sir... Sir I didn't, I swear...I..." he broke off, fighting back the tight swell of misery in his chest.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
Snape reared back, furious and hurt and worried. "Mister Potter, I told you to get OUT, go right now I will be there in a minute!"  
  
Draco lifted his head, blurry eyes now seeing Potter standing only a few inches behind Snape.  
  
"Sir," the brunet stammered again, "It's not what you think."  
  
"And what is it that I 'think' Potter?" The words were snapped, harsh but so obviously desperate that Draco ached.  
  
Harry swallowed, shaking so hard it felt as though the ground beneath his feet were trying to climb the walls, words like briars climbing his throat.  
  
"He didn't force me sir, I, I asked Malfoy to."  
  
"You 'asked' him?" The words were bland with disbelief before abruptly Harry found a wand-point at his chest. " _Finite Incantatum_!"  
  
Harry grimaced as the magic rippled over him. "Sir," he ground out, "Please."  
  
Severus Snape shuddered and clenched his eyes shut, wishing for a vial of veritaserum to just appear in his robes.

It couldn't be possible, yet here was the bloody Saviour to be of the Wizarding World stood before him with the blood of one of the Dark Lords most favoured followers Heirs blood still staining his mouth, mumbling things that were in.com.pre.hens.ible.  
  
"And... the blood, Mister Potter?" He bit out.  
  
Draco's eyes shot to Harry's. He was a tad curious on that matter himself.  
  
"I, I... it was an accident that is I meant to but I, I didn't mean to...."  
  
Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.  
  
"Are you two telling me that, despite years of dissension, rampant and ill-disguised hatred," he near whispered in softly snarled disbelief. "In the middle of a school night 'during' a detention for having already overstepped your precarious boundaries, Mister Potter, you and Mister Malfoy were engaged in what I prefer to gloss over as a sickening discharge of teenage hormones in an obviously 'overzealous' manner, resulting in your apparent... 'Biting' of Mister Malfoy?"  
  
Harry's eyes closed on a surge of mortification and misery and Draco felt the tiniest pang of guilt, recalling the brunet's earlier exclamations against being caught in such a manner.  
  
"Yes Sir." The words were breathed on a whisper of quiet distress and Draco's remorse intensified, a fast blast that had him oddly compelled to draw the Gryffindor close, that compulsion quickly overthrown by his own terror as his house head snapped back bolt upright to glare at them both in turn.   
  
"Detention." He spat. "For both of you. Forever."  
  
"S, Sir?" Draco stammered, finally straightening up, swaying on his feet.  
  
Snape's lip curled back so far that his upper teeth shone slickly in the moonlight and put Draco oddly in mind of their former DADA teacher, the werewolf.  
  
"At this point Mister Malfoy, I do not know whether to be relieved or angered beyond all comprehension with you... I am sure, however, that by morning I will again be steady enough to settle on anger and punish you both accordingly. For now you will return 'immediately' to your room and take it as said that you shall be serving detention 'til the end of your time here and do NOT make me even 'consider' how many points you are each about to lose your houses, for I am far from the mind-set to begin tallying!"  
  
Draco blinked, shooting a glance to an equally shocked Harry before nodding dully and edging towards the door. "Yes, yes sir."  
  
"Potter." Snape's voice rang out just as the brunet swung the door wide to enable their escape. "Not You."  
  
Harry jerked in response, flinching before he even turned back to face the Professor. Draco tried to catch his eye but failing as he darted through the door himself, intent on escape yet finding himself somehow unable to move from outside the door once it swung closed, the Potions Masters voice easily overheard.  
  
"What in Merlin's name do you think you are doing here, Potter?" His voice cracked out like a whip-snap, "I asked you earlier if you thought you had a good reason to be out of bed and when you had no answer I rather naturally assumed your latent stupidity had again given you the idea you were above the rules... If I had even  _suspected_  it was anything like this I'd have hexed you back to your dorms faster than you can say 'Complete and Total Moron'!"  
  
Draco cringed in reaction, wondering how the brunet was holding up under their tutors blistering tirade, unable to discern any reply from the Gryffindor as yet.  
  
"Don't you know who he _IS_ you foolish boy?"   
  
Draco stiffened.  
  
"What do you suppose this is? True Love? Quick tumble in the Astronomy Tower before he writes his father a nice long letter on the joys of debauching the Boy Who Lived? Are you a  _total_  imbecile??"  
  
"I'm sorry sir." It was whispered but Draco heard it past his chattering teeth and numbing disbelief. Did his own mentor despise him?  
  
"Sorry is not the issue here, Potter. While you are, admittedly, old enough to make your huge,  _galactically huge_  mistakes about your 'sexual' choices, you cannot be idiot enough to think this a good choice. You DESPISE each other, you always have, his father has tried to kill you on numerous occasions and there is STILL a very high probability that he will follow in Lucius' footsteps and support the Dark Lord! Do you even 'consider' these things when having your little  _trysts_  with Mister Malfoy?"  
  
Draco held his breath, hurt and shaken to the core.  
  
"This was... this was sort of... the first... sir."  
  
Draco fancied he could hear the Professor's lip curl back, "The first? Let me rightly understand you, Potter. After years of fighting and intense hatred, tonight you stumbled across Draco Malfoy, or rather he across you, and instead of the normal meeting of fist to face.... You had 'intercourse' with him?"  
  
Snape's sarcasm and blatant disbelief left a vast, empty pocket of silence for a moment before Harry's slight whisper struggled vainly to fill the void.  
  
"This was the first time we were together like 'this', Sir."  
  
"But you 'have' had encounters of this 'nature' before now?"  
  
Draco stilled at the morbid curiosity seemingly swimming beneath the Potions Masters disbelief.  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"And he's not produced photos or published the details to the Prophet thus far?"  
  
Draco sucked in a breath, furious that he'd even thought to be swayed by this man.  
  
"NO, sir!" Harry spat, Draco's skin prickling at the heat of it, "Neither did he rape me tonight and neither am I a damsel in distress! Any more than that and I think it's none of your business... Sir!"  
  
Draco's lips quirked. Holy Fuck but he did love it when the Gryffindor fought back.  
  
A breath hissed audibly from between Snape's teeth. "Then get back to your rooms, Potter, and expect considerable punishment to be doled out tomorrow."  
  
The Slytherin shot back from the door, into the shadows, unwilling to be caught again, holding his breath as Potter burst from the room.  
  
"Mister Potter!" The doorway seemed to shrink about the darkness of Snape's robed figure, Harry frozen but clearly seething in the corridor. "Do not forget who he is."  
  
Harry visibly bristled, sagged before nodding and striding away into the night, Snape sweeping off Dementor-like, down towards the dungeons whilst Draco stood, heart in his throat and quivering with hurt, alone in the darkness.  
  
*********  
  
Morning couldn't come soon enough for Draco Malfoy. He'd lain awake ever since returning to his rooms after his 'encounter' the night before with the Boy He'd Forgotten to Hate... Briefly. How could he have been so blind, so utterly overcome by the foolishness of teenage hormones that he'd so despised in others?  
  
If it wasn't so totally and completely mortifying it might actually be funny.  
  
He'd been obsessed, overridden by his desire for the emaciated bespectacled twat.  
  
Well, that was done with now. Potter was a shit and Snape was a goddamn lying BASTARD shit for even believing that he could, that he might... not that it wasn't tempting mind you. Images scrolled through his head, headlines 6 inches high, bold black print screaming ' **Boy Who Lived To Suck Malfoy Heir's Cock** ' and the like, and he smirked, feeling fractionally more like himself, then trying to amuse himself with thoughts of telling his father.  
  
'Hey Dad, how's it going... what? No, no I didn't get the highest grades or win the Quidditch cup... Fucked Potter's arse clean through though.'  
  
For some reason he didn't see his Father greeting the news with the wide smile and laughter he'd so enjoy. He rather imagined he would, instead, be chastised, punished... perhaps even disowned, for having had and missed the chance to crush Potter.  
  
Still, just because his Father expected it of him and his former favourite teacher seemed to think there was no other use for him in the world than to be a tool for the Dark Lord to use against Potter, there was no reason for Draco to use their little tryst against Potter.  
  
It had been.... Not 'nice' and certainly not 'good' in the sense of how he normally associated that word with the Gryffindork, but it really had been  _something_. And now it was done. Simple as that.  
  
He'd fucked Potter, just as he always said he would and now he go back to hating the bastardly little twerp, he obviously hadn't wasted any time in thinking the worst of Draco. But that didn't matter, neither did the fact that Draco could still feel Potter's tight body clenched around him, that burning at his neck...  
  
It was done with. Things were back to normal - nice, healthy hatred and something to upset the little darling's cheerleaders.  
  
Yes, Draco told himself, smiling grimly. Things were about to get right back on track.  
  
  
*************  
  
"I don't think you heard me... Potter. I said to get the FUCK out of my way!"  
  
Draco's nostrils quivered and flared, deliberately standing too close to the Gryffindor.  
  
His plan was moving right along, all the key elements set in motion and yet something was hideously, horrifically wrong.  
  
"This isn't 'your' hall, Malfoy, I'll walk where I please.... Including over _you_ , if I must."  
  
It had been fine, Draco had sauntered into breakfast, sat with his friends, laughed at the paper's prophesies regarding the 'Hero's love-life and eaten his fill of the unexpected omelettes served that morning.  
  
Then, and he still wasn't sure why, something had made him look up - just in time to watch that pathetic prancing Hufflepuff slowly rise, obviously trying for maximum impact, before precisely lobbing a wadded up ball of parchment towards Potter, the missile arcing over the other students in seeming slow motion, catching the eye of nearly everyone present.  
  
The second the wad had landed neatly before the startled brunet, Smith had started collecting his stuff and scurrying from the hall as though he couldn't bear to be present when Potter read his note. This of course made the Gryffindor jump to his feet, eyes scanning the letter even as he all but ran after the retreating boy.  
  
The whispers started before the doors ha even swung shut.  
  
Smith was blackmailing Potter. Smith was in trouble and needed Potter's help. Smith was secretly in love with Potter and had finally found courage to let him know. Smith had been secretly seeing Potter and had just dumped him. Potter and Smith were 'together'.  
  
That wouldn't do at all.  
  
Draco waited, leaving hard on the heels of Potter's pathetic protectors, not even needing to track them far as he (along with many other curious students) ran into them directly outside the Great Hall.  
  
Potter had his hands on Smith's shoulders.  
  
Draco strode forward, intent on rending limbs from limb, whether Potter's, Smith's or both he wasn't sure, only to find that, as he approached, the Hufflepuff tore himself loose, snarling something low-voiced and spiteful towards the Gryffindor and darting off into the throng.  
  
"What's the matter, Potter? Have to force people to take your side these days? I should really write you up for forcibly restraining and harassing another student."  
  
Green eyes turned wearily, if not warily, towards Draco, Potter's luscious red mouth parting to reply, silenced by the predictable butting in of his supposed best friend.  
  
"Fuck off, Malfoy, this isn't any of your business!"  
  
Draco smiled, were he not so pissed off already he might have really enjoying making the Weasel turn an even deeper shade of puce.  
  
"10 points from Gryffindor for use of bad language in front of first years and another 5 for using said language against the Head boy."  
  
It was obvious to everyone in the surrounding mass that were it not for the hands at his chest and elbow, his steadfast friends obviously knowing how to restrain their hot-headed friend, that Ron Weasley might have actually lunged forward to yank the smirk clean off of Draco's face.  
  
This of course did nothing to lessen Draco's smirk, obviously.  
  
"It’s ok Ron, let him cling to his 'Head Boy' title, it's not like he has anything else worth noticing." Weasley seemed to gently simmer down, dropping from the balls of his feet to stand more casually, hands slipping into his pockets as he gently nudged a shoulder into the bushy haired Head Girl's, smiling fondly at her words.  
  
"Oh... 'So' sorry Herm, did I offend 'you' with my inexcusable use of language towards the obviously malevolent Malfoy?"  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. He should have known wooing the Brainiac might require the Weasel to learn a few 'big' words but hearing them try to use them was just 'wrong' somehow.  
  
"If you're 'both' finished with this disgusting display of pre-coital twittering might I go back to speaking to 'Potter' which was unpleasant enough in itself without your own brand of nauseating interruptions!”?  
  
"I believe, Malfoy, that you were 'interrupting' yourself."   
  
Potter. How did his voice get so low and self-assured when Draco could still hear it high and sobbing in his ear where the boy had cried his name over and over as he fucked him? Draco felt his face flame.  
  
"Your 'beliefs', Potter, are of no importance to me because I was within my rights to demand an explanation due to your causing a scene in the corridors amongst other students who have better things than to watch your little boyfriend there leave you gaping and even more clueless in his wake."  
  
Draco wished that Potter's dropped jaw did not make something knot and tingle in the pit of his belly only slightly less than he wished he could bite back his words.  
  
He waited, ready to hear the Hero turn to the crowd and spell out Draco's 'assault' of his sweet young body only hours before, watching as Potter's lip folded back over teeth that he'd last seen smeared by his own blood.  
  
"Well then, as I'm causing such a bother.... I'll just be on my way, then, shall I?"  
  
Draco smiled as sweetly as he was able whilst experiencing the desperate urge to slam Potter into a wall and either do incredibly violent or dirty things to him. "Why yes, Potty, that would be wonderful... scurry along now, would you?"  
  
The brunet planted his feet and crossed his arms, a sign to all that sarcasm had failed on both sides.  
  
"I've got just as much right to stand here as you Malfoy and classes don't start for fifteen minutes yet."  
  
Draco stepped close, almost close enough to feel the smaller wizards body heat, swallowing thickly as his blood began pounding dully in him at the sneer painted across the Gryffindor's face.  
  
Of course, how else should Potter deal with him? He was only ' _the enemy_ ' after all.  
  
"I don't think you understood me, Potter. I told you to clear your little troupe out of these halls and to get your disfigured, whining arse out of my way...comprende?"  
  
Harry's upper lip twitched, something like the shadow of a snarl flickering away before it even came to light. That was it then, done, over with, cessation of hostilities nothing but a ridiculous idea only slightly less foolish than the idea that their late night run-ins had been about mutual passion and not one-upmanship and sex.  
  
"I'm in your way, Malfoy?" He let his head partially roll on his shoulders, over casual in his pose and managing to convey a general air of 'fuck you' that set Draco's blood boiling. "You can't 'make' me move... you'd better go around."  
  
"I don't think you heard me... Potter. I said to get the FUCK out of my way!"  
  
"This isn't 'your' hall, Malfoy, I'll walk where I please.... Including over _you_ , if I must."  
  
Draco's chest was now pressed almost to Harry's sternum, his only point of glee being that Potter had had to tilt his head back to continue glaring up into his face.  
  
"I'd. Like.To.See.You.Try." Draco spat precisely, fists clenching, unsure whether to go directly for the throat or to skip and pull the boys heart out cleanly through his chest.  
  
Harry's lips parted, a tiny crease appearing by his nose and Draco felt a certain glee in the sudden assurance that whatever Potter was about to say was going to be both cruel and horrifically un-heroic, therefore stunning all his surrounding groupies into tragic wailing and intense feelings of loss.  
  
"Potter! Malfoy! Desist this instant!" The rolling R's and thick, sibilant S sounds near screeched across the corridor could only have belonged to one teacher and both boys grimaced as the enraged figure of McGonagall bore down upon them. "Just what is the meaning of this? Brawling almost in the hallways in front of all the lower years and you the Head Boy Mister Malfoy! This is NOT acceptable behaviour and I expect immediate explanations as to why two seventh year students would resort to such asinine and immature behaviour as this at such an early hour of the day!"  
  
Snape stood, silent yet resonating with ire only a few feet away, both boy's fury simmering down under his quietly furious gaze more than from McGonagall's outraged ranting.  
  
"... And I am 'sick' of this behaviour from the 'both' of you, and I expect to see no more of it from this point onwards, am I understood?" The Scots-witch folded her arms (and impressively full robe sleeves) across her chest and glared coldly at the two, each nodding and mumbling apologies in turn.  
  
The head of Gryffindor house turned then, her stern eye managing to single out and scald each watching student and send them all scrambling for class in a vast jumble of half formed professions of homework done and longing for Transfiguration soon until even Ron & Hermione found themselves stumbling back a few steps, unwilling to leave without their friend but unable to withstand the force of the Deputy Heads wrath.  
  
"Come on mate," Ron cleared his throat nervously, giving into the surrounding mass' impetus, "We'll be late for class.... We don't want that, now... do we?"  
  
Harry took a step backwards, nearly re-absorbed into his little group only to stiffen as Snape strode slowly past, glaring darkly at both him and Malfoy.  
  
"Don't forget our 'appointment' later, I would 'so' hate to have to add yet 'more' time to your punishments!"  
  
Draco repressed a shudder, mouth tilting as the Professor swept out of view, mildly placating the elder witch as they walked away, just catching a word here and there as Granger nervously questioned Potter as to Snape's meaning. He wheeled slowly back round to face them.  
  
"Oh dear, Potter? Did you not tell your little friends?" He tutted gently, his tone dripping with mockery and saccharine "And here I thought you three were just the 'bestest' pals and shared absolutely  _everything_?"  
  
Harry scowled at him, face an angry deep red, not fully certain as to whether the blond boy was considering spilling the 'sordid' details as it were, choosing instead to take each friend by the elbow, steering them gently yet firmly towards their next class.  
  
"C'mon you guys," he muttered, "Let's just ignore Lucius junior and get going, eh?"  
  
Something shimmered with pain in Draco's belly for the space of a heartbeat as the words reached his ears, that same pain bursting into a flash of white rage as he snarled, lunging forward to yank Potter back by his collar, one hand spinning him by his shoulder even as the other shot out, colliding in a most satisfactory fashion with Harry's nose, the subsequent crunch and spurt of blood doing nothing to alleviate the beating of fury in his veins.  
  
"FUCK YOU...." he started to yell but even as Potter reeled, staggering with his glasses pushed too far into his hurt nose and blood dripping down over his chin, he was going in for the kill, launching himself at Malfoy, tackling him and bearing them both to the ground, Draco's breath leaving him before impact as Harry's fist imbedded itself briefly in his gut.  
  
"Harry, no, no!" Draco heard Hermione yell but neither of them moved to pull Harry off of him.  
  
Good, he thought with an inward sneer, bucking to dislodge the brunet from atop him and doing his best to again strike that awfully haunting face. It was between him and Potter. It always had been. It always would be.  
  
At some point in the scuffle he managed to get a knee into Potter's ribs, rolling them over to clench white fingers round that throat but Potter back handed him so hard he could barely see and rolled them again, straddling him and pulling back as though to slam his fist into Draco's face, his other hand fisting into his collar to jerk him forward (the better distance to hit you from, my dear) and then...  
  
He stopped.  
  
Draco lay, panting, waiting and unable to process the brunets sudden stillness atop him until he realised where the Gryffindor's gaze lay, instantly squirming to try and pull his shirt back into proper position.  
  
But it was too late.  
  
Harry's eyes refocused themselves, rage abruptly smothered by the extreme awareness of what the vivid bruise over Malfoy's collarbone was. The blond had inexpertly healed himself it seemed for where mere hours before there had been deep, bleeding wounds in the shape of Harry's mouth there now lay dark purple bruises looking for all the world like a love-bite.  
  
_And maybe it was_ , Harry's brain whispered before he jerked himself upright and away a few feet, still staring down in shock where the Slytherin lay, oddly raw and exposed, breathless and unable to meet his gaze.  
  
Slowly, the clumsy sound of his footstep on stone causing him to flinch, Harry stepped forward so he was stood over the still crumpled blond, waiting for the silver, bruising eyes to lift back up to him, breath strangling in his throat when they did, something so close to  _hurt_  in those eyes that his world damn near fell from its axis, before clumsily offering the only thing he had.  
  
"C'mon." he said, stupidly, his palm held out, feet already bracing to take Malfoy's weight as the stunned Slytherin allowed himself to be hauled upright. He stumbled forward from the force of Harry's dragging him from his position at his feet so that they collided, Draco's bloodied face somehow aligned with Harry's throat and before he had time to assess and control his actions, he'd dragged his lips quickly across the brunet's skin, eyes closed and body shuddering as the memory of the entirety of the other boy pressed close burned itself into his brain.  
  
"H... Harry?" Granger called numbly and Potter stepped away, wincing as he stepped directly into the blast of a healing charm from Weasley's slightly less than dilapidated wand.  
  
"Thanks mate," he said gruffly and walked away, both Ron and Hermione trailing a few steps behind unable from glancing back every few feet to where Draco stood, watching and Harry didn't look back even once.  
  
Draco didn't care. It seemed his choice had been made for him.  
  
**********************  
  
Harry trudged wearily into the shower-room, his body aching from the cold and the kind of deep fatigue that settles in your bones and clouds your mind, already wishing he could crawl into bed and it was only 7:35 p.m.  
  
He'd knotted a towel about his hips in the changing rooms, waiting until everyone but Ron had left, as usual the subject of much mockery over his slightly less exhibitionistic tendencies, Ron happy to remind them all of Harry's attempts undress beneath the covers his first night in the dorms. Finally they had all trickled out, leaving Ron still cheerfully showering in the communal section whilst Harry (naturally) chose to retreat to the back of the Gryffindor's team showers to the tiled stalls there, seeking solace in the shadowy cool alcove's to let the water soothe away his aches... both from Quidditch and his now several run ins with Draco bloody Malfoy.  
  
He made his way, by force of habit alone as his eyes were nearly shut already, his glasses discarded along with his clothes, toward the stalls furthest from the door, liking to be by the enchanted window, where he could hear the rain pattering the pane mightily as much as for his privacy.  
  
He sighed, walking for the window now, wanting to remind himself of the raging wind and wet outside to better appreciate his shower before forcing himself out and down to the dungeons, Snape having informed him his detentions would begin that night at 8:30. He wasn't sure he could even bear to imagine what horrors the Potions Master might have in store, to be sure it wasn't going to be anything as simple as scrubbing cauldrons... certainly not after last night.  
  
As he passed the shower closest to the window, his body tensed in sudden horror as his ears and eyes suddenly alerted him to things he should have realised before walking in.  
  
The shower was on and there was a darkly cloaked figure huddled into a corner.  
  
Harry spun, mouth parting already to call out for his wand, for Ron, for help and damn it for his sodding glasses because couldn't see a bloody thing and now, now as the figure burst out from the stall, wet hand clamped over his mouth, dragging him beneath the spray before he could so much as yelp, he was frightened how easily he'd let his own routine endanger him.  
  
He struggled, arms up to try and wrest the hand from his face and throat, his body backed up against the intruders, trying to squawk and cry out for his wand, for help, for mercy, his body stiffening as his attacker abruptly whispered ' _Sshh_ ' into his now dripping ear, cool wet lips pressing ... kisses... into the slick skin of his nape and pulse points.  
  
'Malfoy'. Harry spoke the word against the palm covering his lips but somehow Draco must have understood him, letting his fingers slip down to stroke over his chest, fingers flexing luxuriously over Harry's chest before he allowed the smaller boy to pull away.  
  
Harry stepped back, too fast and spinning so that his back hit the opposite wall, the wet tiles pressing clammily against his skin as he stood, breathless and shocked, at the boy across from him.  
  
Draco lifted a finger, the hand shaking, eyes black with want and nerves in the shadows, pressing said digit to his lips as Harry's eyes raked him up and down.  
  
The showers were charmed to start once you'd stepped in and as Draco had wanted to remain unseen he'd been forced to stand beneath the cool spray, just waiting. He'd kept the temperature low so that there wouldn't be any steam to give away his position but somehow the cold had not deterred him. He felt like nothing could. He felt raw, strong, heady with the need to make Potter see that he was not something worth discarding, longing for that feeling of the other boys skin against his.  
  
He'd discarded his tie after dinner, wanting his collar loose and accessible in case Potter wanted to again review his handiwork, leaving him in just his black school trousers, white shirts and black outer robes. All now were drenched, wet through and Draco just knew his hair must look a sight, rat tailed and dripping at his temples and jawline.  
  
Harry couldn't tear his eyes free.   
  
Draco Malfoy stood before him, an oddly pleading light in his eyes totally belying the clenched jaw and flared nostrils, closely resembling a drowned rat... or at least how a drowned rat might look were it tall, irony skinned and slick with droplets that somehow made Harry's mouth water. His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms. He was not going to do this, he'd made peace with his actions, his obliviously insane behaviour these past few nights, and there was nothing in those deeds that required further thought. It was just sex. One hormonally charged body meeting another. It had nothing at all to do with the person who had fit himself inside his body so tightly, whose nipples were pink and tightly obvious beneath the clinging and opaque white shirt, whose lower lip had grazed the skin below Harry's jaw... the skin that still burned from that small touch...  
  
Draco stepped forward.  
  
Harry's breath guttered and died in his lungs at the focus in the dark grey eyes.  
  
The Slytherin had watched the brunets slow perusal of his body, seen the opposing emotions cross his face and had wondered again how such an open book somehow managed to contain the key to the salvation of all wizard-kind. Harry Potter was fighting to not want him.  
  
It was a fight that Draco planned the Boy Who Lived would lose.  
  
He stepped closer again, noting that despite the look of urgent negation on Harry's face, the Gryffindor hadn't repulsed him or tried to escape, waiting 'til he felt the knot of the wet towelling at Potter's waist dug into him, stopping a mere hairs breadth from the brunet and vibrating with the pleasure that came from watching tiny drips cascading over Harry's upturned face as he looked up into Draco's eyes.  
  
"Harry? You alright back there?" Ron's cheerful voice bounced off the tile walls, reverberating almost Draco's bones as he watched the 'Hero' stiffen in reaction, before licking his lips tilting his head away, just slightly, eyes still locked with Draco's.  
  
"Yeah, I'm good Ron... you go on and hit the steam without me before that shoulder locks up!" He swallowed, almost expecting his erstwhile best friend to bounce into view, 'just checking' that Harry was, indeed, all right.  
  
"Cool! Don't be too long in there mate or you'll be all pruned up for your detention!"  
  
Each boy tensed as footsteps slapped wetly on the charmed warm stone of the changing rooms before the obvious hiss of water hitting the heated rocks through in the steam section, Ron's aching muscles apparently having distracted him, at least for now, from his task of clucking over his only chick.  
  
"I, I have detention." Harry whispered, eyes dropping tellingly to Draco's lips as the Slytherin pressed closer, nodding slightly.  
  
"So do I, " he murmured, head dipping so the warm breath of his words fell carelessly over Harry's lips, "At 8:15... so..." And then he kissed him.  
  
It wasn't like their prior kisses, there was hunger, certainly, and a certain desperation that flavoured the kiss so powerfully that Harry seemed to be suckling on Draco's tongue before he was even aware of being kissed, but they lacked the violence, the all-encompassing frenzy of feeling that they had previously experienced.  
  
"Malfoy," Harry whispered, breathless, between kisses, his hands having somehow found their way up to his neck, one slung carelessly about his shoulders, the other pushing in to run seeking fingers across the sore, bruised flesh of the bite at Draco's throat.  
  
"Yes," Draco kissed, his own hands dropping to furiously pull at the knot holding Harry's towel in place. "Yes... now shut up..."  
  
He dropped his mouth back over the Gryffindor's, muttering, exulting, when the knot came loose and the towel fell to form a sodden pile over Harry's feet, the brunet kicking it away as Draco slid a long, coarsely soaked material covered thigh between his, the rough wet material bringing a whimper to his lips even as Draco pulled away to let his eyes sweep down over Harry's body.  
  
Harry was hard, had been ever since he'd seen those peaked, pink nipples of Draco's so clearly defined by the wet fabric of his shirt and Draco's eyes were greedy now, taking in every detail of the reaction he caused in the brunet before smirking, thrusting his thigh back and forth between the Gryffindor's, pushing upwards to let the soaking material of his trousers catch and drag at the tender undersides of Harry's balls.  
  
He bit back a moan as the green eyes rolled back, dark lashes coming down to conceal the near painful bliss Draco's mere touch seemed to inspire in the smaller boy and he dropped a hand to grip at a pale, bare hip, attempting to hold the writhing boy in place as he took stock of his prize.  
  
Potter's nipples were small, and pink like his own, the near hairless chest gleaming now as the water beat down upon them, near blinding Draco as it seeped into his eyes but still he could not close them, needing to look his fill of the bounty laid out before him. There was a delightful trail of soft black hair leading down from Harry's navel, the only discernible body hair upon the boys torso, arrowing down to cluster in short, soft curls at the base of what Draco thought to be an astonishingly ordinary cock. It wasn't as though he'd expected it to bear its own lightning bolt, or that he hadn't really taken much notice of it during their prior trysts but now it was stood, pulsing and slowly darkening in colour for 'him' and despite its normal length and girth it was somehow the most appealing thing Draco had seen since... watching Potter's hole close about his fingers, his cock, his tongue...  
  
Jerking backward, Draco placed an imperious palm on each of Harry's slippery shoulders, turning him to face the wall, aware of the tiny noise of discontent, the tiny sag in Potter's shoulders as his thighs suddenly spread wider that said the brunet assumed he was about to be fucked again.   
  
Draco clenched his jaw.   
  
The next time he fucked Potter the brunet was going to have to 'beg' him to make up for this assumption, the lack of faith that had him completely subdued at the idea of Draco's cock piercing him... but this was now.  
  
He dropped to his knees, finding himself amazed again at how he hadn't seemed to absorb the seeming perfection of Potter's hindquarters, watching the pale orbs clench, the slim thighs tremble when Draco placed his hands carefully at the juncture between buttock and inner thigh, pushing Harry's legs further apart, already leaning in to lick rolling droplets of water from the crease.  
  
Harry jerked; his breath audible and stuttering in the now collecting steam, unknowingly pushing his hips further into the wet swipe of Draco's tongue, lost in the recollection of the Slytherin's tongue inside him as well as the new desperation that he do it once again.  
  
Draco pushed Harry's cheeks as far apart as he could get them without the brunets whimpers descending into pain, lapping at the indent once and then twice, scowling darkly to himself as the once willing hole stayed firmly shut, doing no more then quiver under his hot caresses.  
  
He quickly brought a hand to his mouth, suckling on two of his fingers before smiling wryly and holding them in the spray to get fully wet, then trailing them over Potter's tightly clenched entrance and smirking as the other boy yelped gently and thrust his hips back harder, seeking the contact once again. Pressing harder, Draco sank his fingers into the Gryffindor, twisting them then stilling at the different cry, a softer cry, hurt, then noting that despite the water pouring down all around them, his fingers didn't appear to be any slicker.  
  
Carefully, shaking as his brain helpfully showed him a series of images where Harry pushed him away, revolted and in pain, he withdrew a finger, gently thrusting the single digit left inside, in and out of the whimpering boy. He crooked his finger to softly stroke the inner walls, leaning in to lap at the tight muscle surrounding his finger, nuzzling his face against the small of Harry's back when the brunet murmured softly in approval.  
  
But it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough to satisfy the hunger itching, seething in the pit of his belly and it was with unsteady hands that he released Harry, his finger sliding free on a soft sob of loss from the brunet, his wet, shaking palms now gripping the Gryffindor's hips, slowly turning him so the full, firm curves of buttocks and thigh were pressed tight to the wall and hazy green eyes were gazing down at him again.  
  
Potter's cock stood proud, flushed with colour and bobbing in time with his erratic heart-beat as Draco knelt before him and the Slytherin felt a bolt of something pure and sweetly terrifying shoot up his spine and into his brain at the notion that this was unforgivable, that this was 'giving' when a Malfoy was meant to take, to rule, not serve.  
  
He couldn't help it. He wanted to do it.  
  
Slowly, watching the warm water collect along the length, dripping off at the tip and gathering in small trickles, tiny rivers where the veins were more prominent, where the flesh strained and bobbed, skin stretched and rosy with need, Draco tilted his head, lips parted, and just let the head of Potter's cock slide over and around his mouth, letting the clean fresh liquid mingle with the sharp taste of Harry's need upon his skin.  
  
He lifted his eyes then, spiky wet lashes clumping together under the onslaught of the water still filtering through his hair and over his brow, grey eyes holding green, as Draco pulled back just enough to push his tongue past his already swelling lips, lapping gently at the head, at the droplets collecting at the slit, flattening his tongue-tip to stroke the underside, exhaling in a little puff of excitement at that satisfaction it brought him.  
  
Kneeling partway up, his own hands sliding and gripping on his thighs he felt a bolt of pleasure shoot through his blood, pushing his own hardening cock up against the strict confines of his now tight, wet trousers and actually wishing,  _longing_  for someone to just happen by, anyone, even that bastard git Weasley... ANYONE... who would then see him, kneeling there, helpless but to suck and drink down Harry Potter's cock.  
  
Draco moaned, a strange noise considering he was busy lapping and swirling intricate letters over the very tip of Potter's cock with his tongue, fingers digging into his thighs so determined was he to continue his work without using more than his own lips almost wishing he were bound and....  
  
He wrenched himself backwards, panting looking up into Harry's startled and guilty face, flushed both from pleasure and the mortification of Draco's having flung himself backwards just as he'd been unable to resist the impulse to sink his fingers into the dripping blond locks at his nape.  
  
They remained motionless, each waiting for the other to shatter the moment, the blow never falling as Draco's attention turned back to the desire that had so swiftly seared his brain... a vision of himself, wrists bound behind him, somehow forced to take the Gryffindor’s aching prick down into his throat. Draco's cock jerked in enthusiastic response. He moaned gently, not breaking eye contact with the brunet who, seeing this as encouragement, slowly reached out to again cup the back of Draco's head, stroking his fingers through without applying any pressure.  
  
Slowly the Slytherin lifted his hands to brace them on the wall on either side of Harry's hips, letting his minds eye fix them there with heavy, rusty old manacles, pinching his delicate skin and chafing at him constantly. He then pictured the same manacles holding Potter steady afterwards, stretching the brunets supple body beyond its limits whilst he pounded and thrust into him without restraint.  
  
Smiling, he leaned in again, opening his mouth to place a sloppy kiss against the wet and messy head, letting his lips drag through the gathering pre-come and discovering he rather liked how dreadfully debauched he felt when the subsequent shocked jab of Harry's hips set that slick tip slipping to one side, smearing his skin with its sticky, gleaming trail, Draco's own neglected cock pulsing frantically in reply.  
  
Swaying slightly, heady with his own daring and total disregard for the Malfoy's left spinning in their graves at his actions, he nuzzled into the prettily weeping head, letting it slap and slide against his mouth, wetting him thoroughly before he abruptly bared his teeth and nipping, ever so gently, at the crown, taking Harry's stiffened, shocked silence as his chance.  
  
Pushing all his breath out in a great whoosh of nerves, already extending his tongue, flattening it to guide the throbbing length home, he crushed himself forwards, pretending the Gryffindor really was forcing him, letting himself feel powerless and also letting Harry's cock slide as deep as he could take it into his mouth, stiffening in turn as it immediately seemed to strike his gag reflex.  
  
He pulled back, only an inch or so, panting and slurping, drooling over the surprisingly thick length and deciding to cross the word 'slobber' off his internal dictionary for ever, steeling himself to try and take it all in again when he suddenly felt it. There, just.... There.  
  
Potter's fingers tightened on his scalp. He leaned back, mouth still grossly distended around the beating, pounding flesh of Harry's rigid prick, eyes lifting to meet the boy hero's and... there. There it was again.  
  
Harry licked his lips, eyes fixed on Draco's face, panting, unable to drag his gaze from where Draco Malfoy couldn't speak or breathe but for the length stretching his lips, wide and full and somehow, despite his better judgement, he couldn't help but tighten his grip, ever so slightly, pushing the blond boy back down onto his cock.  
  
Draco smiled, distorted and awkward, but it was still a smile as he felt the head sliding deeper into his mouth again. He was so close to wanting Potter to force him, the little git must be rubbing off on him.  
  
He felt the head tickle his gag reflex again, trying to do as all the stupid magazines had said, attempting to relax his throat, breathe out through his nose and just swallow but it was too big or Harry was too hard and his eyes were watering and god, he needed to breathe, he couldn't breathe....  
  
He pulled back off, all the way off, surprised to find Potters hand fisted in his air from dragging him off, a long line of semen and saliva still linking his now aching, slick jaw to Harry's continually throbbing dick. He was further more shocked to find he was shaking, nuzzling back into Harry's cock simply as a way to hide his face, laving the sides and head with broad, wet, breathless swipes of his tongue as he stroked himself against it, over and over, his world trembling and teetering about him.  
  
He wanted Potter in his mouth but more, in his throat. God he wanted to deepthroat Harry Potter... and just how wrong was that? Years of hating him, days of fucking him with both fingers and his own twitching, weeping cock and all he wanted now was to swallow Potter down and  _worse_  was that he couldn't even _do it_? Fuck that.  
  
Turning his head back to meet Harry's concerned stare, the nervous lip biting at total opposition with the fire still burning wildly in his cheeks and eyes, he winked as nonchalantly as he could, pressing a tiny, tight-mouthed kiss to the head before sliding back down.  
  
He could do this, he could totally do this... It was all a simple matter of remembering when to breathe. He let Potter guide his head back down, stopping to suckle and flick his tongue against the underside of Harry's cock for as long as he could bear the pressure, then, just before he drew back, he deliberately slid forward, just enough to truly rattle his reflex before pulling away, gasping and shooting Harry looks of pure filth and want as he tongued his slit, pre-come now nearly pouring from the tip, coating Draco's lips and chin as the Slytherin filled his mouth with as much of the slick substance as he could before pushing back down.  
  
Gods but he wanted this, it was sick and wrong in nearly every way that he he'd been taught to believe it but the feeling of Potter's cock-head heavy on the back of his tongue, so near to sliding into his throat and fucking his gullet with short sweet strokes whilst Draco swallowed his sour yet so  _sweet_  come down was 'so' perfect and....  
  
And Potter's cock had just slipped down into his throat.  
  
Harry emitted a harsh, guttural grunt of shock, his fingers tightening painfully in Draco's hair, the loud 'clunk' of his head smacking into the tiles surely audible enough to echo round the room and Draco.... God... Draco had Harry Potter's cock in his throat.  
  
He let out a low whine that somehow had the hard flesh pushing in deeper and he rocked his hips, world spinning and dimming, unable to breathe but god...  _Yes_.... That was Potter's cock thrusting into him, choking him but he wasn't choking, he was full to fucking bursting with his mouth and throat totally full of that glorious long, wet cock but it was perfect, it was  _perfect_...  
  
With a strangled, shattered cry he found himself falling backwards, gasping and whimpering through a bruised windpipe, still trying to further suck down Harry's length even as his hips spasmed, his fingers like claws against the wall as his poor trapped cock leapt and shot stream after stream of hot come into the drenched front of his trousers. Sobbing, he suckled at the length he still had within his lips, Harry murmuring and cooing to him unintelligibly, breath catching on a high note of pain as Draco abruptly scraped his teeth over that pulsing, thick vein at the underside before pulling back and swaying, world nearly black with pleasure as he felt Harry come in great thick spurts into his waiting mouth, creamy white ribbons spilling out at the side of Draco's abused and swollen lips as he swallowed and whimpered greedily.  
  
_I had Harry Potter's cock in my throat... I have his come in my mouth....  
_  
Draco's hips jerked weakly as he pulled off of Harry's spent and softening cock, moaning disconsolately at the loss of suction and blushing as he noted the long white strands of come still stretching between his mouth and that beautiful, slick head.  
  
Harry collapsed, legs crumpled out at either side of Draco's and had the blond not been quite so dizzy and utterly overcome by their previous actions he might have been tempted to thrust his fingers back into the hole now so wantonly displayed by Harry's splayed thighs but instead he let his own hands tangle in the brunets tangled, sopping black locks, yanking their mouths together.  
  
The Gryffindor parted his mouth obediently, sagging into the Slytherin's oddly comforting embrace only to find his mouth full, chin abruptly wetter than before as his own come spilled from Draco's mouth into his, trickling down past their parted lips to slide over Harry's jaw and collar bone, Draco fortunately missing the moment it was washed away in the spray from above, so deeply immersed was he in sharing his bounty with his..... Potter.  
  
He could still barely breathe, his mouth tingled from overuse, his throat and even his chest seemed to be burning from the abuse and he could somehow still feel Potter's cock sliding thickly in and out of his throat.  
  
It was fucking  _brilliant_.  
  
"Later," he panted, kissing the brunet roughly, nipping at his lower lip and promptly soothing it with his tongue. "I want to see you.... After detention..."  
  
"Yes..." Harry murmured, hands skating over Draco's sodden uniform, deliberately lingering over the still taut nubs of his visibly engorged nipples, "...Yes..."  
  
Draco pulled away, ignoring the tiny mewl of loss that seemed to emanate from them both at the action, looking straight (whilst swaying) into Harry's eyes so that his meaning would not be found unclear later on. "I want to see you.... I want to fuck you..." He muttered, pushing his face abruptly close into Harry's turning so his mouth was pressed tight to the brunets ear. "I want to  _fuck_  you..." he reiterated roughly and felt the shudder that ran through Potter's smaller frame.  
  
"Yes..." Harry breathed, turning his own head abruptly to fit his mouth over the bruise of his teeth, biting quickly and pulling away at Draco's in-drawn hiss of breath. 'Good Boy' Draco thought, head swimming with promises yet to keep, eyes locking with the Gryffindor’s as Harry regretfully lifted his head.   
  
"You need to go." He stated dully, as if commenting on the weather and Draco, grunted, attempting to stand.  
  
"Yeah. I do."  
  
They each managed to struggle their way upright, hands in places they would never normally find comfort or purchase on the other 'til they were each swaying drunkenly together, Draco slipping his robes off his shoulders, loosely folding them and squashing the wet material down over his arm.  
  
"Will... your friend... still be in the steam room?"  
  
Harry nodded once, jerkily. "Yes. Don't let him see you."  
  
Draco nodded back, aware that he lacked the urge to sneer and mock Potter for stating the obvious. He started out of the stall, glancing ahead of him warily before quickly charming his clothes dry, aware of Potter's watchful green gaze on him as he strode quickly and quietly away.  
  
"Later." Harry called softly.  
  
"Yes." Draco said.


	5. A Challenge Detoured: Enemy Territory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 5 of the 'Porn War Against dreambastion for Making me Squirm in Company' series.  
> Summary: Your Place or Mine?

**A Challenge Detoured: Enemy Territory**

Draco drifted back along the corridors, cursing himself feebly as his body sung and throbbed, both from overuse and anticipation.  
  
His detention (for which he had been late, a further ten points deducted from his house) had been out doing grounds work with Hagrid who had made him help rebuild the pen needed to keep the horses in. It seemed idiotic to Draco that magical creatures such as Unicorns would feel more secure with the obviously muggle breed of steed but apparently since the Dark Lord had taken to snacking on them in their first year, the mythical beasts felt more at ease with wild muggle horses to mingle with. Sadly, it seemed Hagrid had misjudged the temperaments of the last horses selected for this process, mistakenly putting several rutting stallions in with one another, the result being the far wall of the fence being smashed to smithereens.   
  
He hadn't minded the detention itself, all things considered it was definitely worth it but after hauling all the split logs about, ready to brace them as Hagrid nailed them in place with muggle tools, his body was taut with strain, a mass of pulled muscles waiting to happen and he felt likely to fall asleep at any given moment.  
  
Of course, he had no intention of letting that happen. He'd sleep once he earned it, earned it slamming into Harry Potter's tight, welcoming ass.  
  
He shivered, swallowing thickly, aware of the burn, the deliciously stretched muscles of his throat still holding the memory of Harry's cock inside him. He hadn't planned to let things get quite that far with Potter, he'd figured they'd clear things up, make out a bit and finish up with Potter riding his digits in the fantastic way he did so well. Of course, he hadn't bargained on Potter's apparently still being sore from the night before… or his overwhelming need to suck down the entirety of the Gryffindor's pulsing prick.  
  
Gods… he could still taste him.   
  
He licked his lips, thoughtlessly relishing the sting of the still swollen flesh, and came to a halt as he turned down towards the dungeons, a wave of fatigue striking him hard.  
  
He needed a Pepper-Up potion, a Slumber-Buster would be best but that would keep him awake for days. If he could just nip quickly back to his rooms and grab his back up Pepper-Up then he could go search for the Gryffindor, if he'd even finished his detention.  
  
Draco ground his teeth together. He'd only been punished for being out late and the crime of sullying the Boy who Lived. Potter would be being punished for the idiocy of letting a borderline junior death-eater take his virginity.  
  
He stopped, swaying.   
  
Oh god. He really had. He'd taken Harry fucking Potter's virginity.  
  
His body blazed anew with satisfaction and  _gods_  the desire to do it again, over and over 'til they passed out from the pleasure… or he bled out, depending on Potter's apparent fetishes.  
  
A tiny smile tweaked the corners of his lips, as he stood, eyes closed, letting the memories of Potter's body tight against his flood over him, his gasps, his heat… His cock heavy on his tongue.  
  
"Mm." He murmured unwittingly, eyes opening slowly, almost expecting to find Potter naked and dripping before him again, eyes blurred with desire and the water in his eyes as he gazed down at him.  
  
But his eyes weren't blurry at all. And he was there. Right there, frozen, in the opposing doorway.  
  
"Potter." The word was out of him before he could help it, echoing off the walls of the abandoned corridors in the late night light.  
  
"He had to let me go."  
  
They each stood, bizarrely still and quiet, words strangely civil, distant as they reached each other across the wide expanse of stone walls and floor.  
  
"He let you go?"  
  
"Yeah, he put me to work in the kitchens," Harry took a single, hesitant step forward, "He said as I obviously had the brainpower of a house-elf then I could help them with their chores tonight. He… he even came along to watch."  
  
Draco nodded slowly, fighting the urge to run, away or towards, either felt ideal. "So… why the early escape?"  
  
"I'm used to working in kitchens, I was done faster than he'd expected."  
  
Draco nodded again. "Ah. I don't imagine he was pleased?"  
  
"No."  
  
"No." Draco let his eyes drop to the floor, sensory memory abruptly rushing at him in waves - swallowing Potter's come, his cock, choking himself in his desperation.  
  
This was a bad idea. He couldn't do this. He could still taste him for Gods sake!  
  
A tiny noise brought his eyes back upwards. Potter had taken that same single step backwards. "Well, I…should… go…" The Gryffindor muttered, cheeks darkening in a way utterly unlike how he'd looked flushed with the pleasure of Draco touching him.  
  
Draco swallowed and took two steps forward. Then three. Then he stopped, stopped dead, directly in the middle of the corridor.  
  
"Potter." He ground out helplessly.  
  
The green eyes met his, unwavering and… god, how was he this innocent? … filled with something so close to hope it made Draco burn, and not in a good way.  
  
"Potter…" he whispered again, harshly and even as his feet suddenly dragged him the rest of the way forward, the Gryffindor was already striding to meet him, colliding with him, hands already spearing through hair, mouths locking tight and tongues stroking wildly across the others.  
  
He found himself staggering, sideways, spinning so suddenly his back was against the cold stone wall, Harry Potter so fucking tight against his body he could feel his heart pounding through his robes. He tightened his arms.  
  
He vaguely suspected that doing this in a public hallway where anyone, particularly Snape, could stumble across them but he didn't care, he didn't even want to turn the boy round and fuck him through the wall… Yet. All he could think of, all he knew, was that it was beyond him to release him, to stop tasting him over and over, fucking dragging the breath from his lungs into his.  
  
Kissing had never seemed so integral, so terrifyingly visceral before.  
  
Draco knew he had to stop. He had to. This was a very bad idea. Worse than the blowjob, worse than taking his virginity, worse than having near forced him that very first time. Kissing Harry Potter was extremely dangerous. He had to stop. He had to.  
  
He pushed Potter back, ignoring the soft, slick noise that ignited his bloodstream as their lips separated, seizing the brunet by the shoulders… and spinning them so their positions were reversed, pressing Potter back into the stone on a sigh of seeming contentment before pouring himself back into Harry via his lips.  
  
Harry had one hand thrust through Draco's hair, his arm linked up from under the arms currently wrapped too tightly at his torso, groaning softly as his index and middle finger rubbed tiny circles over the bruise at Draco's throat, crooning softly when the repeated stimulus set the Slytherin grunting low and wincing into the caress.   
  
“Obsessed much?” He panted into Harry's parted mouth before promptly stifling any response with his tongue thrust deeply into the moist recesses and growling threateningly when the brunet pulled back, gasping delightedly.  
  
“No more than you…” Harry grunted, panting, trailing his mouth down over Draco’s jaw to his throat, muttering against the skin, “…with your fingers in my ass.”  
  
“Mmm,” Draco agreed huskily, tilting his head back to grudgingly allow the Gryffindor better access, “Course, my liking to watch you whimper and squeal with my fingers inside you isn’t ‘quite’ as depraved as your getting off on sinking your teeth into my jugular vein.”  
  
“You’re right of course.” Harry whispered, lapping wetly, just the tip of his tongue making contact with the warm, bruised skin before letting his warm breath brush the dampened flesh.  
  
“I’m always right, Potter. That’s why I’m Head Boy and you, you’re just…”  
  
“An orally obsessed, Head Boy groupie?”  
  
Draco fought back a smile, his groin tightening further at the thought of Harry Potter forming a fan-club devoted to him, worshipping him whenever he could… perhaps he’d make him do just that later. “Close enough.” He murmured.  
  
“Although, shouldn’t that be ‘Orally Obsessed Head Boy’?” Harry's quietly daring tone came from just under the collar of Draco’s rapidly wilting shirt-points.  
  
Draco’s face flamed, his face flushing a deep red, swallowing with embarrassment and (Gods) if he couldn’t still feel Potter’s length still shoved deep inside him.  
  
“Fuck you.” He spat furiously, moving to yank himself away from the Gryffindor’s abruptly tightly gripping hands, yelping as Harry's teeth clenched suddenly on his skin, the already tender tissue protesting with little bolts of pain fizzing beneath the pressure as a surprised cry spilt over Draco’s lips.  
  
“Language, Malfoy… I’m just saying…” The words were blurred, painful against the bruise even as Potter already suckled and soothed at the abused skin, “I’m not sure if it’s more worrying to be orally fixated on your goddamned perfect skin… Or to be utterly  _desperate_  to suck cock… what do you think?”   
  
And he bit down again, hard.  
  
Draco arched, horrified at Harry's words and so fucking furious that, even as his cock leapt and poked imperatively into Potter’s belly, he was already slamming the smaller frame brutally against the stone.  
  
“As I recall, Potter,” He ground out, noting in the furthest corners of his brain that the Gryffindor looked utterly, wonderfully debauched when thrust up against the wall under the late night torch lights, “You were a little eager to suck _my_ dick down once I’d finger-fucked that tight arse of yours last time, so perhaps you should watch your fucking mouth before I fill it up again for you!”  
  
Abruptly, Potter was plastered back against Draco tighter than his own skin, the heat pouring from the blood pounding through his veins swamping Draco’s senses so that he swayed and had to lean them both against the wall. “Yes,” Harry muttered throatily, grinding his own hardening length into Draco’s thigh, “Fuck… yeah… fill me up….”  
  
Draco’s entire body throbbed and thrummed with longing, eyes wide, pupils expanding faster than his pulse could power the blood in his veins, staring down into the absurdly bashful yet inherently lustful face of Gryffindor’s Poster Boy.  
  
“Potter…” he said, his own voice unrecognisable to him.  
  
“Don’t you…” Harry drew in a shaking breath and somehow pressed himself yet tighter to the blonds lean form, licking his lips with seeming nervousness, “Don’t you have your own room?”  
  
Draco nodded, struck dumb as the implications of Potters words coursed through him.  
  
Harry tilted his head up and backwards, tracing the outline of the stunned Slytherin’s parted lips with his tongue tip.   
  
“Take me there?” he said gently, and Draco thought he’d never heard sweeter words spoken.  
  
“If anyone sees us,” Draco whispered, already stepping them both away from the wall and (reluctantly) attempting to unwind the clinging Gryffindor from his body, “They’ll assume there’s something… ‘questionable’ afoot.”  
  
Harry blushed, breathless it seemed from his own daring. “Well… it is a touch questionable… isn’t it?”  
  
“What?” Draco murmured dulcetly, “My taking you back to my room to do with you what I will or my general practice of fucking you?”  
  
Harry cocked an eyebrow and took a faltering step back towards the Slytherin. “And, just for the sake of curiosity, what would letting you ‘do what you will’ with me, entail?”  
  
Draco further closed the gap so that they’re chests and still rampant erections brushed against in other through the strained material between them.  
  
“I rather thought I might fuck you again.” The words were casual, offhand but Draco felt the shiver that passed over Potter’s skin chase itself onto his own.  
  
“Malfoy.” Harry husked gently.  
  
“Yesss…?” Potter was so close, Draco could nearly taste him again.  
  
“Take me back to your room.”  
  
“Why.”  
  
“Why??”  
  
“Tell me ‘why’ you want to come back to my room, Potter.” Draco smiled, predatory and delighted when he saw the glimmer of appreciation flicker in the green gaze.  
  
“Because…”  
  
“Because…?”  
  
“Because, I want you… to fuck me.”  
  
Draco shuddered and closed his eyes. “Well then,” he whispered, “My room it is.”  
  
  
***********************  
  
It seemed to only take a matter of moments, stumbling, breathless clinging moments and clumsy footsteps as their mouths and bodies met and collided with seemingly every other step 'til they finally collapsed, whimpering and gasping against the wall by the portrait that stood guardian at Draco’s door.  
  
Octavien, Baron of Helm’s Lair, Hogwarts first ever Head Boy, tutted disapprovingly and politely averted his eyes, blushing as Draco groaned, Harry's hand sliding down to grind the heel into the persistent hardness beating madly for him beneath the material of the Slytherins trousers.  
  
“Password?” Octavien coughed gently, never particularly comfortable with this rather more voyeuristic part of his job, clearing his throat a few times, deliberately lacking subtlety. He had seen activities such as this before, of course he had… but then (with the exception of that one boy who turned out to be a werewolf) he’d never seen two students appear to be quite so ravenous in their embracing, not quite so likely to make love as to certainly devour each other. It was, all in all, not the sort of behaviour to be exhibited in the very public corridor.  
  
“Password???” He coughed a little louder and Draco lifted his head from Harry's on a much-needed in-drawn breath and cast the portrait a mischievous wink, one head boy to another.  
  
“Dominion.” He drawled hoarsely, letting his fingers tighten almost cruelly over the warm softness of Potter’s posterior, before dragging Harry into the slowly revealed shadowy doorway, ignoring Octavien's startled gasp of shock as Harry bit into the soft underside of Draco’s jaw.  
  
“I think we’ve upset him.” Harry laughed gently as the door clicked shut behind them, eyes sweeping over the rich furnishings of the more 'luxurious' room, hard pushed to tell what was simply rewards for being the Head Boy, and which were just the natural habitat of the spoilt Slytherin. "Nice room." He commented idly, trying to not let his gaze linger on the bed too readily. It seemed much larger than his own humble bed in the Gryffindor tower, the dark wood gleaming where the thick, green curtains had been swept back in swathes to gather, ribbon-bound, at the four posts themselves.  
  
"You like it?" Draco purred, loving to have his rooms admired, loving to have anything that separated him from the common, the everyday, and moving to stand behind the Gryffindor, he lifted suddenly shaking hands to push the robes from his shoulders.  
  
"It's uh, a lot brighter, warmer than the Slytherin dorms." Harry murmured, eyes sliding shut as his blood simmered gently and his brain muttered nonsensical things about the good sense in letting Draco Malfoy remove his clothes.  
  
"Oh? I don't recall having invited you there in the past… how have you been in there?"  
  
"Oh, y'know…" Harry arched his spine as Draco's hands moved to tweak and pull the buttons from his shirt from their holes, the already too baggy flannel shirt sagging off into Draco's willing fingers, "I was in and out of there a lot the last couple of days, figured I'd better let the rest of the Slytherin 7th year take their go with me."  
  
"Oh… I see." Draco smiled before spinning Harry around, pushing him roughly onto his bed, already yanking the shoes from his feet, clambering up to straddle him, not so much rough as vicious in his desperation as he jerked at Harry's fly. "This is the part where I'm meant to combust with fury, abject jealousy over the idea that you might have let my classmates fuck you, touch this pretty little body that I already claimed for myself? That’s how this goes?"  
  
"N, no," Harry gasped, shooting a hand up to seize Draco by his silky blond locks, hauling the sneering mouth down to his, "This is the part where you're supposed to be so distracted by  _fucking me_  that you quit acting like such a prissy bitch."  
  
"Prissy… I'M the prissy bitch? Why you hypocritical little Gryffindor, I should..."  
  
"You should get naked." Harry bucked, hard, knocking Draco off his prone body, ignoring how his erection now tented his underwear out through the gap in his trousers, tumbling himself over the blond and kissing him hard. "I'm sick of being the only one to get naked during these little 'things' we have."  
  
Draco could think of a million comebacks to that. Harry's eagerness to see his naked body was obviously an indicator of (not only his blatant crush on the gorgeous Malfoy heir) his acceptance that he was discernibly inferior and wanted to, therefore, look upon perfection. By 'things' Harry could only mean that he was too overwhelmed by the severe intimacy of Draco fingers, tongue and cock inside him and was obviously trying to compensate by playing the situation down.  
  
But Draco couldn't say anything. Instead he snarled, bit Harry's mouth, and thrust his tongue, rolling them over so that he was on top once more, struggling to shuck his clothes even as a hand twisted down to tug the Gryffindor's fly all the way open, his underwear out of the way, moaning harshly as he felt the hot tip nudge against his questing fingers.  
  
_God_ , he loved that cock.  
  
He wrenched himself back upright, ignoring his screaming senses and Potter's quiet whimper at the loss of contact, tugging his robes and partially undone shirt up over his head and flinging them away from the bed.  
  
Funny - He never normally dropped his clothes on the floor but then, he never normally had Harry Potter underneath him on his bed, just 'waiting' for Draco to fuck him through the mattress.   
  
He kicked his shoes off and twisted to throw them across the room.  
  
Fuck neatness.  
  
He lifted a brow at the flushed, hazy brunet, considering asking his opinion on his obviously perfect body before catching sight of his latest favourite toy, bobbing madly as green eyes raked his naked chest, rather noticeably drawn to his peaked nipples.  
  
"Like what you see?" He purred and, without waiting for a response, dove down to take Harry in his mouth once more, already working the head with his tongue even as his blood caught up with the motion, the room spinning dizzyingly behind his closed eyelids as he murmured appreciatively. Potter tasted better without all that water diluting his skin.  
  
Harry's cock nudged its way up against his gag reflex again, the familiar twitching, tickling sensation telling Draco when to pull back. He'd done it, he knew he could do it but his throat still throbbed and sang with its newfound knowledge, he didn't want to force the lesson. He pulled all the way off, moaning incoherently and nuzzling against the sticky flesh, tilting his head from side to side so that he could better place sucking, desperate kisses up and down the length before sinking back down, fingers working the length he couldn't fit inside him, worshipping at the rest with his teeth, tongue and lips. He lapped at the head, eagerly drinking the already spilling precum and working it up and down the hard flesh with his fingers, groaning softly as it slipped and jerked against his lips.  
  
"You, ahhh…. You two…. Want to be… alone?"  
  
Draco lifted his head, cheeks flushing even further than they had been already, meeting Harry's amused (if unfocused) eyes and scowling with already swelling lips.  
  
"What can I tell you Potter, I find your cock a great deal more agreeable than your face."  
  
Harry snorted. "Feeling's mutual, Malfoy."  
  
A silver brow shot high. "You also prefer your cock to your face? How very clever, if self-deprecating, of you."  
  
Harry's mouth twitched. "Shut up." He grinned and something in Draco's stomach twitched uneasily at the vast difference between hearing those words crooned versus spat at him.  
  
Warm fingers stroked suddenly, shyly, at his shoulder, Draco dipped his head to watch the blunt, slightly ragged nails trailing over his smooth skin.  
  
"Malfoy." Potter breathed, undulating ever so slightly beneath Draco's still hunched form. "Still not naked." He pouted and the Slytherin found himself harder still just from that tiny moue of petulance adorning the Gryffindor's luscious lips.  
  
"Well then… that’s easily corrected." Draco breathed, pulling his wand from his waistband and pointing quickly at the Gryffindor's remaining garments and secretly relishing the brunets lack of distress exhibited by having a wand, Draco's wand, trained upon him. " _Abrogo Vestis_."  
  
Harry's clothes seemed to shrivel from his form as though they were dissolving from him, ending laid beneath him as though they had never been upon his body at all.  
  
"Nice." Harry commented hoarsely, eyes already glazing over as the blond then pointed the wand at his own barely remaining garments.  
  
Draco's trousers seemed to fall away from his, pooling down over his thighs to reform beneath his weight, even the silver belt buckle on his black leather belt pouring over his skin in liquid form to sparkle and form itself anew against the bed, all of this going utterly unnoticed as Harry's eyes grew heavy lidded and focused only on Draco's cock.  
  
"Nguh." He said, somewhat tonelessly and Draco laughed delightedly.  
  
"Never let it be said that I wanted you for your mind Potter, my reputation will be in shreds!"  
  
Harry opened his mouth, blushing furiously and heaving himself up onto his elbows, made a move to grab at the Slytherin, only to find himself flat on his back once more, each wrist seized in determined, strong fingers, the blond now laid fully atop him.  
  
"Tut tut, Harry, " Draco whispered, skin on fire with the sensation of being pressed fully against the naked brunet, mouth tantalisingly close to the Gryffindor's shocked open red lips, "It's not nice to grab… didn't anybody ever tell you that?"  
  
Harry pushed his hips up tight against him, sobbing low in his throat when their cocks lined up and rubbed deliciously against each other, skin slippery and hotly moist where the throbbing tips met.  
  
"Malfoy..." he groaned, low in his throat and Draco dipped his head lower to brush his lips over Harry's.   
  
"Say my name."  
  
"Draco."  
  
"Again."  
  
"…Draco…"  
  
"Now say… Kiss me."  
  
"Fuck me."  
  
Draco threw back his head and roared with laughter, delighted and aroused beyond all comprehension.  
  
He pulled back, releasing Harry's hands to wipe at his tearing eyes, laughs doubling in ferocity as he noted the tiny pout adorning the brunets face.  
  
"Oh god… stop… stop… stop looking at me like that… I'll bust open…. Oh god my sides…"  
  
Harry sat all the way up and yanked Draco to him. "It's funny that I want you to fuck me?"  
  
Draco wiped his tears again before butting his face into Harry's throat to lean and gasp a moment. "No, no… well… Yes. I just… I just forgot how bloody contrary Gryffindor’s are."  
  
"And that’s funny?"  
  
"Only when you consider that you just asked me to fuck you."  
  
"I thought you'd…"  
  
Draco lifted his head, trying to catch Harry's now studiously averted eyes.  
  
"You thought I'd what?" He could see himself reflected in the Gryffindor's glasses and he gently moved fingers upward to lift the frames from the brunet's face, placing them into a fold in the nearby gathered curtains. "You thought I'd… like it?"  
  
Harry flickered eyes up towards his a moment before setting his jaw somewhat stubbornly. "Kiss me." He muttered and Draco felt unable to do anything but comply.  
  
Even as his mouth sealed over Harry's once more, a moan not even close to stifled as the Gryffindor's tongue curled encouragingly around his, Draco was tipping them downward again, warm bodies sprawled against his coverlet, Harry bloody Potter of all people arching and undulating naked beneath him.  
  
It was so fucking good.  
  
Draco ran the topside of his foot up and down over Harry’s hair roughened shin, murmuring low in his throat as Harry threw unabashed arms around his torso, holding the taller boy to him as though Draco might willingly quit their embrace. Not bloody likely.  
  
Draco rolled them over, absurdly curious as to how it might feel to have the Gryffindor's weight holding him down, groaning in satisfaction as the almost stifling sensation of another male body crushing him made his head swim, his senses reeling as he willingly allowed the brunet to plunder his mouth.  
  
“I want you,” Harry breathed on a note of disbelief, whining unabashedly as Draco skated hot fingertips over the crease of his buttocks, “Oh god, I want you…”  
  
“Don’t… sound… so… surprised… Potter.” Draco gasped between bruisingly intense kisses. “It’s not like… this… is the… first time… or… something.”  
  
“No, “ Harry moaned back, twisting his hips to drag their erections together, “That would have been ‘last’ night.”  
  
They kissed in near silence for the next few minutes, seconds blurring into each other with great rapidity as their breaths became laboured, just vaguely grinding into each other as movement became too great an obstacle between kissing and consciousness, Draco appalled by the sensation of contentment that left his limbs sprawled wantonly beneath the Gryffindor's.  
  
“So… what’s different?” The blond eventually gasped when Harry near collapsed against his chest, his own heaving as he fought to drag in breath past his distress at the cessation of ‘making out’.  
  
“What?” Harry slurred against Draco’s skin.  
  
“You sounded… surprised… before.”  
  
Harry managed to pull himself up far enough to prop a hand beneath his chin, swaying gently as he let his eyes linger over Draco’s lust-flushed body. He shrugged loosely. “I don’t know… this is just the first time…. Y’know.”  
  
Draco quirked an eyebrow, fighting drowsiness. “No, I don’t know… hence the fact of actually asking the question, Potter.”  
  
Harry’s eyes fell to Draco’s collarbone, instantly intriguing the Slytherin with his hesitance.  
  
“S’just the first time it was just this… no fighting… just… ‘this’.” He mumbled, a sea of red blooming from his cheeks down over his throat and Draco was delighted at the easy mortification.  
  
“I thought you liked to fight with me.” He pointed out in a semi reasonable manner, carefully not mentioning their earlier brawl… especially its rather exposing outcome.  
  
Harry’s mouth twitched upwards at the side, just vaguely. “I don’t mind kicking your arse when it needs kicking,” he conceded with a tiny smirk before leaning in to lick a tiny crease n Draco’s skin at his throat, nuzzling in to further inhale the Slytherin. “I just like it better… like this.”  
  
“Fuck. Not fight.” Draco summarised, unable to understand the cold knot of dread in his belly and carefully glossed over the frequency of their fights in his head.  
  
Harry lifted abruptly cautious eyes to Draco’s. “Something like that.” He murmured.  
  
“So… you want me to fuck you?” Draco rasped, the hurt still inexplicably making him want to choke then cling to the other boy, pushing him up and back now even as the Gryffindor nodded hesitantly. “Excellent,” he grated, “No more of this pathetic cuddling… foreplay must be a Gryffindor trait.” He scoffed and pushed Harry yet further from him.  
  
He ignored the brunet's vaguely bemused expression, squashing the tiny nugget of disquiet until the only thing left was that smallest pang amidst a now seething wave of lust.  
  
Draco's hand brushed over something cool and smooth, his eyes dropping to rest upon the bright shine of his belt buckle, the long band of leather gleaming dully, smooth yet with such promised malevolence that Draco's mouth almost watered openly, his mind alight with abrupt possibilities that had nothing to do with fashion, his earlier fantasy again replaying before his minds eye.  
  
"Kneel up." He commanded hoarsely, heat coursing through him when the brunet remained motionless. "Kneel. Up."  
  
Harry swallowed. "Where… and, uh… why?" His eyes were on the belt slowly being wrapped about Draco's fist and it occurred to the Slytherin that perhaps Potter had reason to fear 'the strap'. He'd heard the rumours, unlikely as they were.  
  
He looked up, admiring (not for the first time) the beautiful wood crossing, and curling back over itself at the canopy part of his deliciously wide bed. It was a tad high but he imagined that was easily enough solved.  
  
" _Diutius_." He commanded, noting the vaguely more watchful glance from the Gryffindor, obviously now feeling his vulnerability, vision impaired, naked and (Snape would be displeased) at the mercy of the Death-Eater Lucius Malfoy's sole heir. More fool him.  
  
Slowly and delightfully serpent-like, the leather previously wrapped about his fist drooped and stretched as in gained at least a metre in length, shining and spiteful with the rooms muted candlelight flickering over it.  
  
"Come here." Draco murmured softly and watched the tiniest tremor of apprehension flow over the brunet's skin before he slowly moved towards him. "Good boy." He crooned, and shivered himself as the words caused Harry to blush and duck his head, once more hiding his face in the hollow of Draco's throat, his erection renewing itself at the words that seemed as though they were uttered only for him.  
  
"Kneel up." Draco said softly, face turned into Harry's temple, letting the dampening locks catch and tickle at his lips.  
  
Slowly, eyes betraying nothing but measured patience, Harry knelt up and Draco was absurdly silenced, pride rippling through him. He  _knew_  Potter was frightened, stupid fucking Gryffindor. He just knew he didn't want anything to do with the belt, but he was doing it, doing it because Draco told him to.  
  
Harry knelt before him, proudly defiant yet utterly willing. It was a strange mixture and Draco admitted that he adored the totally contradictory nature of his apparently captive Gryffindor, hiding all appreciative thoughts deep within as he let his eyes linger boldly on Harry's body, so close he could feel the heat pouring off of him.  
  
"Raise your arms up, over your head. Like this." Draco crossed his wrists one over the other and watched the brunets Adams apple bob down then upward swiftly.  
  
"Why?" Harry near whispered again and Draco trembled ever so slightly, slipping his fingertips under the Hero's jaw to better tilt him for a kiss.  
  
"Because I told you to." He whispered back, words compressed and blurred against Harry's mouth but Draco knew he had heard them all the same.  
  
Slowly, now visibly shaking, Harry Potter crossed one wrist over the other and lifted his arms, held high above his head.  
  
_Good Boy_ , Draco thought again, the bizarre lump back in his throat as he noted the tremors lessen when he rubbed a hand approvingly over Potter's flanks. Good Boy.  
  
Whispering incantations, Draco watched as the leather sinuously coiled upwards, pushing up through the air like the enchanted ropes of India, slowly twining itself about the sensuously woven wood girders, a great length still swaying, shining between the two boys bodies.  
  
Kneeling up alongside the brunet, Draco took the extra measure of fashioned hide, and wound it several times about Harry’s crossed wrists, effectively binding him in place as Draco slowly pulled at the other end, twisting it into itself, until Harry’s arms were drawn taut over his head, biceps straining and the Slytherin caught his breath.  
  
Harry's skin, strained and flushed with arousal, seemed to glow, light emanating from it as he shot a glance at Draco from beneath seemingly coyly lowered lashes. He was hot, obedient and entirely fuckable. Why had Draco wasted so many years fighting him?  
  
"How does that feel?" He purred, voice thick despite its idle solicitude, want dripping like honey over the polite inquiry.  
  
"All right." Harry's voice cracked, over so slightly and he wet his lips. "This… this is… what you wanted?"  
  
Draco sat back on his haunches, noting that the tension in the Gryffindor's shoulders seemed more due to his stance and vague nervousness rather than the belts pulling him taut.  
  
That wouldn't do at all.  
  
Slowly, he slid from the bed, walking round slowly to crawl up again, his body already twitching and inclining itself towards the brunets extended spine, cock-head nudging hotly at the crease of Potters exquisite arse.  
  
"Higher." He crooned gently, wrapping his arms around Harry's suddenly heaving chest. "Spread your thighs… and push up as high as you can go, I want your hands up high."  
  
Harry butted his head into Draco's, arching so that he was splayed against the Slytherin as he zealously spread his thighs, the back of his tousled head resting against Draco's shoulder as he moaned quietly, forcing his arms yet higher into the air.  
  
Draco smiled, watching the leather gain the barest amount of slack. Potter could indeed be stretched further.  
  
Turning his head he laved his tongue hotly over the brunets parted mouth, allowing himself the brief distraction of stopping to continue the searing, brain melting kiss as Harry groaned loudly and sucked enthusiastically on his tongue-tip. "Such a slut for me…" Draco muttered against Harry's lips, "My hot, obedient little slut… aren't you?"  
  
"Fuck… you…" Harry panted, arching further into Draco's caress, earning himself yet more long, drugging kisses, long clever fingers skating up and over his delineated ribcage, stroking deftly over pale forearms to clench over the leather reining in the rampant Gryffindor.  
  
" _Arto_." He growled gently, swallowing Harry's gasped exclamation as the belt drew him upwards as it reduced in length until the brunets shoulders were literally straining in their sockets, so far had he been drawn taut. " _Satis_." He whispered, and the leather stopped, both it and Potter precisely where he wanted them.  
  
"Gods," he muttered thickly, drinking in the smaller boys rapid breaths, the sheen of exertion on his skin as his bindings kept him drawn beyond comfort. "You look so… so…"  
  
"Fuckable…?" Harry snarled, thrashing as best he could. "That’s why you did this… right? So you can fuck me, just the way you want to?"  
  
Draco was taken aback. Harry had it exactly right but from his lips it sounded…. All wrong.  
  
He shoved a hand roughly into the brunet's thick locks, yanking his head back, hard. "Yes… yes I'm going to fuck you, fuck you any way I want… that’s what you think isn't it… excuse me if I thought you 'might' actually enjoy being fucked like this, helpless… totally fucking vulnerable to everything but my filling you… fucking you so hard you see stars… I guess you're not all that fucking brave after all… Eh, Gryffindor?"  
  
"I'm not afraid." Harry twisted, his teeth snapping audibly and Draco started, realising the Gryffindor actually meant to use those flashing, white teeth to bite. "I'm just sick…"  
  
"Sick?" Draco near roared, affronted, silenced abruptly as the green eyes fixed on him, bright and fierce even without his clarifying lenses.  
  
"Sick of your not being able to fuck me unless you think it’s some twisted Slytherin revenge."  
  
Draco gaped. "I've not… I didn't…"  
  
"Every time you've touched me, with perhaps two exceptions that were nothing more than kisses, every time it's been about you getting one up on me even though you blatantly, " Harry ground his hips back into Draco's erection as best he could, " _blatantly_ fucking want me for more than revenge purposes."  
  
_Nothing more than kisses_. For some reason that cut Draco deeper than the rest of Potter's furious tirade and he dropped his eyes, quietly seething.  
  
"Either you want me to fuck you, or you don't, Potter. My motivation in the task should mean no more to you than yours does to me." His words were dull, heavy with rage and disappointment.  
  
"My motivations? All right… fine. Don't share, but let’s say my motives have more to do with getting fucked hard by you instead of giving a fuck about why you're more hung up on 'playing' at this than fucking me… I…"  
  
"Playing?" Draco hissed, pulling back to abruptly shove his fingers between the brunets quivering buttocks, pressing hard against the clenched, spasming muscle. "This isn't a fucking game Potter. I'm fucking you because I CAN, that’s my fucking motivation and I fucking strung you up like this because I just  _knew_ , " He bit Harry's own madly beating pulse-point before licking at the tortured skin and relishing the tremors it caused, "that it would be the fucking hottest thing  _ever_  to have you this way so now… I'm going to have you."  
  
He pushed a single digit past the resisting stiffness of Harry's sphincter, crushing a morsel of guilt when the smaller boy let out a tiny gurgle of pain at the intrusion.  
  
He leant his body backwards, watching where his finger disappeared in and out of Harry's grasping hole, the brunet whimpering as he did so with increasing rapidity.  
  
"God…" Harry sobbed, letting his head fall against his stretched biceps, eyes flickering shut s the pain briefly overwhelmed the thrum of arousal pounding through him.  
  
Draco frowned, the possibility of its still being too soon racing through his mind like a harbinger of doom. Slowly he pulled his finger free, unwrapping his other arm from about Harry's waist and biting his lip at the low moan of loss it drew from the shivering boy. He let himself slide backward, every nerve screaming for renewed proximity to his prize, clambering down from his bed with an abruptly racing heart as he near staggered to the chest of drawers beneath his largest mirror. Fumbling through his admittedly vast array of cosmetic products (being a male teenager was no excuse for poor skin) he finally closed his hand about the cool, glass bottle he'd been hoping for before almost diving back towards the back in his anxiety to again be in contact with the brunet.  
  
"This might be cold." He mumbled hoarsely, uncorking the Oil of African Violet and tipping the vaguely blue, gently fragranced substance over his fingers, his body actually twitching and jerking in response to both the temperature and the sudden wealth of possibilities its slick consistency offered.  
  
He pressed his fingers between Harry's cheeks once more, relishing the rapid in-drawn breath at the cool liquid against his skin, Draco rubbing his now wetted digits in tiny circles around Potter's tight hole, crooning gently as he felt shivers of reaction course over the Gryffindor's skin.  
  
"It's all right," He whispered, finding his finger slipped in easily now, pulling back to sink in another, slowly though, noting the still perceptible resistance, "This is going to be so fucking good Potter… I'll be the fucking best you'll ever have."  
  
Harry lifted his head, lashes suspiciously wet and formed into peaks where there should be fans, twisting round to murmur softly, his damp mouth proffered for a kiss that Draco couldn't help but take, slick fingers now pumping in and out of the boy who lived.  
  
Carefully, he pulled his fingers free, noting that this time the brunet inclined his hips and moaned piteously at the lack of thrusting digits, Draco smiling smugly to himself as he poured yet more oil over his hand before boldly placing three blunt tips at Harry's entrance.  
  
"Easy…" he muttered, eyes on Potter's trembling lips and pushed all three home.  
  
They slid in, thick and full inside the Gryffindor but he arched his spine and sobbed, wrists pulling at the leather in desperation, trying to push himself back harder onto the invading digits and Draco's jaw fell open, unable to believe how easy it was, how the slick, sweet lotion could make such a difference.  
  
Shaking, he promptly poured a rather more than generous amount over his own already dripping cock. "Good Boy…" he whispered to the still undulating brunet, pulling his hand free to rest the wet fingers soothingly on Harry's hip, other hand already positioning the snub, slick head tight against Harry's hole, both their thighs trembling wildly. "Just breathe…"  
  
And slowly, he pushed his way inside.  
  
His angle was all wrong, he was too close and Potter was drawn too far upright. He was having to lean back, his body forced to thrust upwards instead of in, muscles already screaming as he slid all the way home, cock throbbing deep in Harry's hole and each time the Gryffindor moved, Draco stood a great chance of toppling backwards from the bed.  
  
Nothing had ever been so  _Perfec_ t… And nothing ever would be.  
  
"Oh god…" Draco whispered, face pressed tight into Harry's nape, sweat drenched curls tickling his face, feeling the tight channel clench and squeeze about his length.  
  
He pulled back, the long, keening wail that left Harry's lips setting his hips jerking back forward, literally ramming himself back inside before he was more than a few inches out, the excess of lubrication creating a loud squishing noise as their bodies rejoined.  
  
"Fuck." Draco sobbed and Harry thrashed against him.  
  
" _Please_ …" he cried wildly, trying to push himself further into the cradle of Draco's admittedly bony hips, "Oh…gods… Draco…  _PLEASE_?"  
  
Groaning, the world spinning and gyrating madly about him, Draco pulled back, ignoring Harry's pleas as he leaned back on his haunches, watching as he drew out 'til nearly all but his head was free before stabbing his hips forward, eyes rolling in his head as Harry yelled and squirmed back against his length.  
  
It was too much.  
  
Toppling backwards, he let his spine connect with the mattress, knees folding under him so that he could continue to pump into the boy now straddling him but it was massively uncomfortable, his backbone screaming with each lunge upwards between Harry's buttocks, Draco then struggling for his wand.  
  
" _Diutius_." He sobbed again before swishing his wand in a way more suited to a frantic 1st year than a 7th year currently getting laid. " _Satis_."   
  
Harry's weight was now suspended just above him, the leather still holding his arms above his head but the distance had altered greatly. Before he'd been drawn too high to kneel up comfortably, now his wrists were still bound high but he was able to slide himself up and down Draco's sopping, violet scented cock, each downward stroke, as the Gryffindor mewled and cried, causing the leather to drag that bit further into his skin, his shoulders straining to support him as Draco rocked his hips up into him, fucking the brunet as surely as he was fucking himself.  
  
"God… _nguh_ … Potter… You look… so….  _HOT_ … riding my… cock..." Draco gasped, hips slamming up a little too hard, near piercing the smaller boy with his achingly hard flesh. "Ride me…" he commanded hoarsely, managing (with great difficulty) to still his own hips.  "Fuck yourself on me."  
  
Harry dropped his head forward, tears pouring silently down his face at the pain in his back and shoulders, wrists having long since gone numb, rocking and whimpering heedlessly back and forth, up and down Draco's length, face hidden by his biceps, gasping as the familiar bubbling in his lower belly began to further froth and boil as he sank onto the thick cock, over and over again.  
  
"Come inside me…" he muttered thickly, words barely discernible where his mouth was mashed against his own sweatslicked skin.  "Fill me… fuck me… Draco… _Draco_ …."  
  
Draco gasped, at first entranced by Harry's mumbled monologue, eyes fixed on the mesmerising sight of his cock disappearing between those perfect porcelain cheeks until something more horrifying than erotic caught his eye.  
  
Blood.  
  
Blood was trickling, in sweetly slim, scarlet streams down the insides of Potter's forearms.  
  
Draco yelped, and pulled out and Harry threw back his head and  _howled_.  
  
"No, no… Potter… it's ok, it's ok, I'm sorry… I'm sorry…  _LAXO_!"  
  
The leather gave way and Harry's arms plummeted to his sides, the Gryffindor already trying to spin, trying to propel himself into Draco's arms.  
  
"No, no… don't stop, gods Malfoy…. Draco… please, please don't stop…"  
  
Draco seized his limp arms, exclaiming numbly in horror at the broken, bleeding flesh of his wrists. "Potter, why the FUCK didn't you say something??"  
  
"I want you, so _close_ …" Harry sobbed, nuzzling in, turning his head desperately for a kiss, and trying to straddle Draco once more, "…I  _want_  you."  
  
Draco shoved him backwards, wand in hand once more, casting healing charms and watching the blistered, raw skin repair itself, horror seeping through his arousal. Potter wanted him to fuck him so much not even his own blood deterred him?  
  
A bolt of something hot and dangerous shot through him, settling somewhere alarming deep in his chest.  
  
Potter wanted Draco  _that_  much.  
  
He seized Harry's mouth in a searing kiss, moaning hard into the brunets mouth and wildly considering the likelihood of his parents letting him keep this stray that had followed him home.  
  
"Do you hurt?" He growled roughly, biting Harry's lower lip in opposition to the angry concern still lurking beneath his libido, watching the vague wince when he forced the brunet to flex his wrists.  
  
"It's nothing!" The Gryffindor snarled back, repeatedly stabbing his tongue into Draco's mouth and slipping callused fingers over Draco's oiled cock, pulling imperatively at its slippery length. "Fuck me…" he whined, pouting again despite his defensive scowl and Draco melted, blood igniting at both words and expression.  
  
"Forwards," he bit out, pushing Harry onto his hands and knees, firm hands already forcing the trembling, slippery thighs apart so that he could kneel behind him, cock poking insistently back against Harry's sweetly open hole, only giving the Gryffindor enough time to find his balance before shoving all the way back in, groaning loudly as he felt the spasms rocket their way through every inch of the brunet.  
  
He fell forward, chest neatly aligning itself over Harry's bucking, sweating spine, his nipples being dragged and caressed by the boy beneath him in such an unexpectedly pleasurable way that Draco sagged, moaning over Harry, hands pressed down, arms stretched, braced outside of Harry's, letting the smaller boy do all the work again as he thrust and writhed beneath his tormentor.  
  
"Yes… yes…" Harry couldn't seem to form any other words, eyes squeezed tight shut as he tried to force himself tighter against the beautiful body covering his and moaning desolately when he couldn't seem to twist round for a kiss, then yelping when clever fingers reached up to tweak and twist his nipples cruelly.  
  
"If I keep you," Draco muttered hotly into his ear, "I want these pierced. I want them sore and full of metal so I can touch you like this, twist them in my fingers 'til you cry and beg for more and I want you to only wear them for  _me_  because you'll be  _mine_ , you hear me? If I keep you you're MINE and no-one else's, no one's."  
  
"No," Harry sobbed, curling and pushing back even as Draco rolled his body over and inside him, claiming him by words and deed, stabbing his intent deep inside him. "Yours… yours…"  
  
Draco dropped his hand from the abused, aching nubs down to support his weight once more, shifting even as his world began spinning all the faster once more, his other hand lifting to twist into Harry's lush dark hair, yanking his head round at an awkward angle to plunder his mouth.  
  
"Mine." Draco gasped as he tongue-fucked Harry's open, panting lips, " _Mine_."   
  
And he came, pulling free and pushing home even as he shot thick white ribbons of heat into Harry's contracting hole, the excess already dribbling down the back of his thighs, over his balls that seized and jerked as Harry sobbed and came himself, shooting high and hard, splashing over both their hands wound together against the coverlet as they collapsed, breathless and lost, in each others arms.  
  
"Mine." He gasped and slipped into welcoming oblivion.


	6. The Challenge Transforms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 6 of the 'Porn War Against dreambastion for Making me Squirm in Company' series.  
> Summary: Early morning freakouts, public longings, fun in the stable yard & of course, Porn.

**The Challenge Transforms:**

He woke slowly, deliciously buried and cocooned almost by soft blankets and a deep sense of contentment. He recalled having woken earlier, his mind fuzzy and demanding more rest, his limbs heavy with lethargy and still wonderfully entwined with those of one Harry Potter, still sprawled and sleeping soundly against him... beneath him, all around him.  
  
He'd drifted back off once more, smiling and nuzzling into the lips still tilted towards him, murmuring low and likely nonsensically, and the last and most terrifying sensation he could recall before sleep had reclaimed him had been unadulterated, unexpected  _contentment_.  
  
He wished he felt it still. Or better, that he never had, for no matter how subtly he shifted, toes outstretched, gently elongating his calf, his fingers in unconsciously pleading ways, he could find no body curled tight against him or even sprawled just far enough away for comfort.  
  
He was alone.  
  
Potter had left him. Snuck out like nothing more than a common whore, casting shadows and doubt over what Draco had thought the most fucking beautiful thing to have ever happened in his young life. He'd slept Potter's arms, his own wrapped around Harry in turn, no wands, no angry words, and no mistrust.  
  
When he'd woken, for those few brief seconds before falling back into slumber, it had been perfect.  
  
He forced himself to open his eyes, reaffirming what he already knew.  
  
Instead of tears he decided that the water in his eyes signified his fury. He sat up slowly.  
  
The covers had been bunched around him, staving off the nip that he knew generally accompanied the air of early morning before the House-Elves began the warming charms throughout the floors and rooms of the widely stretching castle. Harry must have left him roughly around dawn.  
  
His lip drew up in a practised sneer, body refusing to do more than hold him sat upright as he worked himself up to righteous fury.  
  
What did he care if Harry frigging Potter snuck out of his rooms after a good hard fucking from the Slytherin Head Boy? He'd been right before, it was the action of a whore and considering the way Potter had reacted to his fucking, he was obviously a practised slut, despite his seeming purity before giving himself up, literally into Draco's hands.  
  
"Bastard fucking Gryffindor..." He muttered hoarsely, throat now savagely reminding him of its misuse the prior night, lips full and trembling as they recalled traversing the brunets body.  
  
He lifted his hands, gradually, trying to prevent the shaking in them as he pressed down over his eyes.  
  
He didn't care, he didn't fucking care.  
  
Why would he? Why would he give so much as a shit about Harry Potter only sticking around for sex?   
  
No wonder he'd been so pleased to not have to fight with him first last night, it'd just saved him time on getting to the shagging so he could run away quicker.  
  
_Yours. Only Yours._  
  
Draco ground his teeth together, trying to block out the persistently repeated whispers in his head. Fucking LIAR.  
  
He threw himself back down against the mattress, rolling sideways and further rolling himself into the blankets to block out the sudden cold and sadly seal in the niggling, consuming doubts.  
  
"...bastard." He whispered sadly, unable to place quite why he felt so unaccountably furious and... and  _crushed_.  
  
He rolled over, trying to turn his face to the mattress, stifle his voice  & tears before they began only to hear the bizarrely crisp crumple of paper beneath his cheek.  
  
Why was there paper in his bed?  
  
He sat up quickly, so quickly in fact that his cocoon betrayed him and he promptly toppled over the side of the bed.  
  
Up so fast his head span and his stomach seemed to slide into his toes, he sprang back onto the now bare bed, blankets left tumbled on the floor, the now slightly scrunched up paper in his shaking hands.  
  
**_Had to go, Ron would flip if he woke without me there and thought best to not wake you considering how little rest we've both had recently.  
  
Later?  
  
H.P.  
_**  
Draco shook so hard he thought he might vomit, letter falling from bloodless fingers as he tumbled back against the pillows.  
  
It was still on, whatever it was.  
  
"Oh thank god." He whispered.  
  
  
******************************************  
  
He couldn't bear it.   
  
He'd been sat across from him for twenty minutes now, caught his eye roughly three times, shared one extremely idiotically intense smile, neither intimate nor filthy nor happy nor anything that could be so easily categorised. It was one smile, shared by two people who usually hated one another and not just people but men, boys really, boys who knew no more of the world and how to deal with soul consuming desire than they did curse-breaking or mortgages.  
  
All he wanted to do was stand up, cross the room, yank Potter to his feet and claim that mouth.  
  
He didn't know why, couldn't fully explain it beyond their obvious activities together, but Potter was  _his_  and something in his gut seemed to think it a good idea to let everyone in the school, preferably on the planet, know it.  
  
Fortunately this urge was buried beneath the desire to not appear needy, weak or even vaguely human, not to mention what might happen if his father found out.  
  
He was  _not_  on Potter's side. Quite firmly the opposite in fact. He was a Malfoy and Malfoy's had always been for the cause of the Pure Blooded Wizards. It was a shame, of course, that in following in his fathers footsteps and upholding centuries of family tradition he would be taking the side that would surely end in Potter's death but with any luck (Potter's luck more like) he would survive the war itself and hopefully just learn to respect and follow the Dark Lords ways. Surely if Potter surrendered (or could be persuaded to) then the Dark Lord would have no reason to kill him? Maybe, if Draco worked very hard for the cause, the Dark Lord would allow Harry to live as Draco's sex slave as a reward for his efforts.  
  
He wanted to vomit.  
  
His hand shook as he took notes, trying to pay attention to McGonnagal's meandering brogue over the intricacies of Animagi transformation.  
  
He was on the wrong side, no matter which was truly the right because they weren't on the same side. Not that he cared that much obviously, but it made things likely to be difficult in the long run.  
  
Not that there would be a long run. How could there be? It was sex. How long could it possibly last? With any luck, Draco shivered, they could be easily over long before the war ever really started.  
  
They were told to quickly form into groups, the entire class quickly forming into three sparsely numbered groups, all dictated by alphabet therefore rather uncomfortably (but so massively longed for) placing Draco. M and Harry. P within the same study group.  
  
At first he was silent. Nodded and took notes alongside the others as they clustered about one desk, focusing on their allocated task, listening as Potter spoke and trying to not tremble at the gentle sincerity in his voice, at the seeming total lack of awareness of Draco's proximity.  
  
He had to pay attention; he couldn't afford to fall behind in even one subject. It wasn't that he couldn't listen to Potter speak, he just needed to be more aware of what the bloody Boy Wonder was saying and not so much focused on his tone, low and serious.... So eerily similar somehow to those quietly frantic cries of his name, over and over and over...  
  
"So, if experiencing a full moon during the time of transformation doesn't affect the process, then why does a Blue Moon? It's nothing more than timing without the clouds of eruptive debris?"  
  
Parkinson went to answer first, her lip already curling as she obviously went in for the kill, abruptly silenced as Draco's voice inserted itself neatly into the conversation.  
  
"The thing with Blue moons, Potter, is that blue is a spiritually focusing hue. In animal form, the ice crystals that form about the moon when its at its fullest, become a ring nearly as powerful as the moon itself so when it occurs twice in a month the near meditative affects can, if not properly supervised, lull the 'wizard' within, as it were, into such a primitive and calm state that they find they lack the desire and even cognisance to make the change back."  
  
There was silence. Draco stood frozen, hoping that what felt like tepid contribution on his face wasn't actually the pounding desperation he felt flowing through him.  
  
"So," Harry said, softly, something almost too gentle in his eyes, "It doesn't really affect a wizard or witch turning into their animagus form but it does make changing back...?"  
  
"Very difficult. Yes." Draco nodded casually and wondered that his brain didn't topple outwards from the tilt, he felt so exposed and then suddenly, all the others had snatched up their parchment and were making frantic notes.   
  
Potter must have been the only one brave enough to speak up his confusion... Potter, who was making no notes whatsoever, merely standing there, just looking, looking back up at Draco, that odd gentleness still banked down in the pit of his gaze.  
  
Draco felt himself sway, felt the improbable and inadvisable tilt of his body, his mouth down towards the Gryffindor. The inclination, both downwards and to simply just kiss the other boy then and there, was hideously powerful and, pulling himself back with the sort of start generally felt awaking from a nightmare, Draco halted his progress and glared mildly before something struck him.   
  
Potter hadn't flinched.  
  
Draco had been  _this_  close to kissing him, just leaning into that warm body, wrapping himself about the smaller frame and drinking him down, and Potter hadn't moved a muscle.  
  
Cursed Gryffindor bravery or simply frozen in terror? Worse, perhaps he knew Draco wouldn't... couldn't do it.  
  
He looked, daringly, into Potter's eyes and there found rather horrifyingly, regret.  
  
His mouth dropped slightly open. A Malfoy never 'truly' gaped.  
  
Something brushed the cobbled silken skin of his knuckles and he glanced down, just to see Potter's hand retreat back to its place in the scruffy robe pocket from whence it came.  
  
Ohhhhhhh, He thought, reeling slightly.  _Regret_.  
  
The rest of their studying passed by in a haze of nods and murmured agreements, no notes taken, no further advice given as his brain swam in his skull, just waiting 'til the end of class and the possibility of fresh air, oxygen, clarity of thought and... Potter.  
  
Damned if he wasn't going to kiss Potter the very second the bloody class was over.  
  
Slowly, excruciatingly slowly if you were someone aching to be let loose, the class dwindled to a close. Students drifted out into the corridor in fits and spurts, caught between desperation to be free and the lethargic resentment that came of knowing there was another class yet to attend. Draco was one of the first out the door.  
  
He burst round a corner, watching to make sure no-one was observing him too closely as he secreted himself in the curtain shielded alcove, best used (most likely) for the purpose Draco had in mind for charming (i.e. private) little nook.  
  
He watched the others slowly drifting past, biting into his lower lip, torn between elation and annoyance.  
  
Where was Potter? Was he hanging back, looking for him? Or had the bastard already run away like the good little Gryffindor that he was, all ready and perky for his next class?  
  
There.... A footstep and... more, a seemingly lost Gryffindor.  
  
Not lost per se, he simply looked lost and if that wasn't the greatest thing that Draco had ever seen (well, since Potter squirming and riding him the night before) then he didn't know what was.  
  
"Potter." He said quietly and when the brunet looked around he simply stretched out a hand from behind the drapery and waited, palm up, for perhaps the breadth of a nanosecond before Potter's warm hand fit into his.  
  
He jerked him into his impromptu sanctuary. "You're going to be late." He remarked conversationally.  
  
"You too." Harry said, a little breathlessly, having not pulled his hand free from the Slytherin’s warm clasp.  
  
"Yes." Draco whispered, crowding him back against the wall, kissing him before he even knew how badly he needed to, vaguely aware of Potter's book-bag striking the floor as he simply let go, reaching his now free hand up to twist into Draco's hair, rather than un-twine their woven fingers.  
  
He couldn't believe it.  
  
It was just that easy.  
  
He'd dragged Potter behind the curtain for the purpose of kissing him and there he was... kissing Harry Potter.  
  
It was  _brilliant._  
  
He wanted to go slowly, lick his way round the delicious contours of Potter's teeth, his tongue, those slick inner walls but somehow he found himself falling, tongue-first, into the most breathless and frenzied kiss he'd ever experienced. He'd have been embarrassed by his lack of finesse if a) it hadn't felt  _so damn good_  and b) if Potter hadn't been kissing him back just as frantically.  
  
"Mmmmmmmm." He groaned encouragingly as Harry's hips bucked into his.  
  
"Mmmmmmmmmm... got to go...." Potter responded with such deep regret that he actually sounded as though he was in great pain. Or perhaps that was where Draco was suddenly gripping him far too tightly at both throat and their now viciously clenched fingers.  
  
"No." He said baldly, having pulled back just far enough to glare down into Harry's concealed eyes, angry at the shadows that lent those spectacles their extra layer of camouflage, hiding the brunets usually easy to read gaze. He tightened his fingers, lest the Gryffindor forget who was in charge of their little games. He wanted them to kiss, and kiss they would goddammit, even if he had to force the smaller boy. He shuddered, pushing his body tighter to Harry's frame.  
  
Forcing Potter was always  _so_  much fun.  
  
Harry moaned gently, pushing back with his body 'til their mouths and bodies fit together anew.  
  
Then again, capitulation also had its charms...  
  
"I have to go..." Potter whispered, licking round the shell of Draco's ear whilst he sucked at the beating pulse-point on the brunet's throat.  
  
"No!" He snarled again, and bit, eyes flickering shut as Harry shuddered with delight under his usual modus operandi.   
  
"But, I'll get detention..." Harry gasped, Draco's head coming up so fast the shadows swam and spun about him, crushing his bared teeth tight to Potter's parted, wet lips.  
  
"I. Don't. Care."  
  
He was a nanosecond too late to nip the tip of Harry's tongue as it swept quickly over his teeth, firm red lips pressed tight to Draco's.  
  
"We already don't have enough  _free time_ ," he murmured, punctuating the latter words with catlike rubbing against Draco's body, "More detention means less extracurricular... _stuff_."  
  
Detention Bad. Sex Good.  
  
Draco could clearly see the logic of Potter's argument.  
  
But he wasn't going to let him know that. He was still in charge here after all.  
  
With a smirk calculated to show just how much of a fuck he didn't give concerning their apparently waning time together, Draco dove back in, tongue first, fingers so tight on every inch they traversed of Potter's unresisting form that he imagined there'd be fingerprints all over his clear skin by nightfall.  
  
He pressed Harry tighter into both the wall and his body, revelling when the brunets cries for freedom ceased, covered over by needful, greedy little moans that spilled from them both with every parting for breath, 'til Draco was licking feverishly at the corners of Potters preposterously delicious lips before shoving the brunet away with great effort.  
  
"Go on then," He panted, striving for nonchalance and gesturing airily, "Run along to class before your idiotic Gryffindor ways further impede my desire to fuck you."  
  
Harry merely grinned (lopsidedly, Draco noticed) before straightening his robes and near sprinting away down the corridor.  
  
Draco slumped against the wall a moment longer, composing himself before he strolled off to his own classes. He bit his lip. The little fucker hadn't looked back at him even  _once_.  
  
********************************  
  
Harry smiled to himself as his body sang with pleasant use, his muscles only too aware of their recent activity as they bunched and released with each slow swoop and sweep of the pitchfork through the sweetly smelling hay.  
  
His lips tingled, his entire body ached and he swore he could still taste Draco bloody Malfoy on his tongue.  
  
He shouldn't be this happy. He knew he shouldn't. For a start it was asking for trouble because he was NEVER able to stay happy without something horrendous occurring and it had already been rather 'drummed' into him by none other than the man who'd most like to see him fall on his face that Malfoy was not precisely the 'sweetheart' type.  
  
Still, he was happy. He couldn't help it.  
  
Malfoy had grabbed him, better, even before that, had looked so overcome with want that Harry had thought he'd been about to kiss him, there, right in the middle of class. It would have been a disaster, McGonagall would have promptly tried to kill them both for fear they were polyjuiced DeathEaters or just too hexed to survive. But gods... How fucking  _hot_  would it have been to have him just lay claim to his mouth right there and then, for everyone to see?  
  
A tiny moan crept out beneath his breath. Hot, yes, but not as hot as his waiting for Harry out in the corridor, pulling him in just to finally touch him, kiss him, reassert his ownership...  
  
Harry shook his head quickly, scrambling the errant thoughts away. Malfoy wanted him, certainly. But the only 'need' he had was to plunge himself into the Gryffindor and if he'd muttered about wanting Harry to be 'his' then it was no more than the spoilt ramblings of a boy who never shared his toys. Malfoy didn't care about or even like him, and Harry needed to remember that. It wasn't that he particularly liked Malfoy himself, in fact he usually rather hated him, it was just the feeling of having someone... Having  _Malfoy_  so deeply inside him that he couldn't breathe for pleasure... it somewhat overrode his common sense.  
  
He smirked slightly, shoulders aching as he speared another mass of hay and tipped it over the stall wall into the horse enclosure. It seemed as strange to him that he was vibrating with desire just to get back into Draco Malfoy's arms as it was that Unicorns now apparently required muggle horses to keep them peaceful and content.  
  
But, of course, he had every plan of stopping soon. He and Malfoy would have maybe just a little more fun then that would be that, they'd go back to hating each other and.... Harry squinted, head abruptly thick and aching. Perhaps it wasn't necessary that they go back to precisely how they had been before, the thought of facing each other, hurling curses that had nothing to with grades and everything to do with taking lives... he just didn't want to have to do that. He would. Of course he would. He just hoped...  
  
He rolled his head on his shoulders, grimacing as he tried to push away the negative thoughts. Bleak the outlook may be, but for once, just ONCE he was determined to act like a normal teenaged boy and follow his heart, or rather his glands. If they 'happened' to lead him straight to Draco Malfoy then so be it, everything for a reason blah, blah...  
  
He drove the pitchfork into the hay once more, smiling wryly. Each time he thought about what might... should... WOULD happen after detention, he found himself working that much faster, harder, just to try and wrangle just a few minutes more with the blond laying claim to his body.  
  
"Working up a sweat, are we Potter?"  
  
_Fuck. Yes. FuckYesFuckYesFuckYesFuckYesFuckYesFuckYesFuckYesFuckYes  
_  
Harry straightened slowly, turning to face the other wizard, casually propped against the open stable door, abruptly aware of how his white shirt now clung to him with the soft sheen of effort, trousers clinging slightly more faithfully than they should.  
  
He trembled and absurdly hoped that the Slytherin liked what he saw.  
  
Draco's mouth was dry. It wasn't even a remotely hot day, or even particularly dusty down by the stables but suddenly he couldn't swallow and if he could.... Well then...  
  
Potter's hair was slightly stuck to his forehead, cheeks slightly reddened with the effort of what appeared to be at least an hour of hay pitching, clothes suddenly clinging where once they hung.  
  
He liked what he saw.... But of course, there was no way in hell he was going to tell the idiot anything like that.  
  
"Yeah..." Harry's voice cracked slightly as he answered, eyes dancing fleetingly up to the Slytherin's only to fall back to his feet. "I'm not that far from being done here, I've been at it ages..."  
  
Draco shrugged. "Take as long as you like Potter. I don't give a fuck really."  
  
He nearly winced. WHY was he lying? He wanted Potter bent over, clutching his ankles and screaming like a 5th year girl as he fucked him and he wanted it as fast as possible, preferably sooner.  
  
Harry lifted a shoulder, a careless shrug totally belied by the way the odd note of hope had dropped from his voice. "Fine then, if you don't mind I'll just get back on with it then Malfoy. You should probably piss off, wouldn't want to rumple your robes or anything."  
  
Draco closed his eyes. The response to that pathetically disappointed gibe was so easy he could have uttered it the moment he'd stepped from the womb.  
  
But he didn't want to. He'd come down here because he couldn't wait even one more minute before putting his hands back on that obscenely addictive body, and Potter so clearly wanted nothing more than to be fucked that it was almost painful. So what did that leave him? Should he try to apologise (Merlin help him) or attempt to engineer the sort of fight that usually drove them squalling and bitching and now generally biting into each others arms?  
  
He trembled.  
  
"Potter," he said in something sounding like lost, and Harry's head came up, eyes narrowed in suspicion yet still opening his arms and the blond abruptly strode forward, seizing him roughly.  
  
"Yes." Harry hissed and then their mouths were on each others, tongues nearly choking the other as they fought quickly for dominance and Draco thought he could taste the reproach on Potter's lips, that he had even attempted to fake his way back out of this.  
  
They tore their lips back apart for just a moment, Draco attempting to suck air back into his lungs even as Harry forfeited the last of his to gasp, demand,  _beg_  with just one breath "Fuck me..." before sealing his mouth back over Draco's and muffling their joint moans of pleasure.  
  
Draco pushed their bodies forwards, recalling dimly past the insistent pleasure of Potter's tongue about his that there was a wooden stall right by them, nudging forwards 'til a sudden whoosh of air from the brunets lungs told him they'd made contact.  
  
"You... want me... to  _fuck_  you...?" He growled tightly against Potter's lips and accepted the Gryffindor's heartfelt whimper and forward stabbing of his hips into Draco's as a 'Yes'.  
  
He pushed the brunet from his, conscious of the necessity of holding eye contact so that the brunet did not think he was being rejected in any way. He wasn't about to waste time whispering soft pointless things into the Gryffindor's ears like last night, he thought, face colouring slightly at the recollection.  
  
"Turn Around." He said firmly, but softly, enjoying the way his voice seemed to set shivers running over the smaller boys skin, Harry obeying him near instantly.  
  
"Unbutton yours trousers," he said, voice rasping as his throat dried yet further at the thought, wetting his lips as he continued "Then push them down past your hips, not all the way, and... and spread your legs."  
  
Harry complied, face flushing as the blood frothed beneath his skin, legs unable to part more than a few inches with his trousers restricting movement. "Like... this?" He questioned hoarsely.  
  
"Put more of your weight on the stall, bend a bit, like...like..."  
  
_Like the first time I fucked you.  
_  
"Like this?" Harry whispered, voice abruptly rich with knowing as he perfectly bent himself so that his upper body rested against the wood of the stall, hips and bare ass pushed out, invitingly, towards the blond.  
  
Draco swayed, swallowing. "Yes. Exactly like that."  
  
He couldn't believe how easy this was. Fucking YEARS of fighting and now he had walked into the stables, door wide and open to anyone passing by and ordered Harry Potter to drop his trousers and spread his leg for the express purpose of letting Draco fuck him?  
  
A shudder worked its way through the blond before seemingly seeping out the end of his now highly enthused erection. His head swam as he noted the play of sunlight over Potter's creamy, bare flesh. Daylight was flooding in, a new setting for them, dappling Potter's naked skin with a sort of shocking intimacy and Draco was suddenly all too aware of just how exposed they were... how much Potter was.  
  
He moaned. Potter trusted him or rather wanted him enough to stand there in broad daylight, thighs spread and trembling, where anyone could see him and he didn't seem to care just so long as Draco fucked him.  
  
He drew his zipper down perhaps a touch too fast. He didn't want to disappoint the Gryffindor's newfound faith in him.  
  
" _Lubricus_." He whispered, hand in his pocket, wrapped round his wand even as his other dropped to stroke his now exposed and lightly dripping cock, with drawing the hand from his pocket, now slick with a clear gel.  
  
"I did a little homework," he confessed slyly, catching the Gryffindor's slightly amused and curious glance as he craned to look back over his shoulder, catching his breath as Draco skated slick digits over his hole. "I even learned," he confessed throatily, "That there are spells that could make me hard for 6, 8 or 12 hours." He bent low to quickly press a fevered kiss to Harry's parted lips, muttering wildly as he pulled back once more, "Just think how long I could fuck you like that, just tie you down and fuck you 'til there was no room left for my come inside you."  
  
"Oh god..." Harry near sobbed, pushing his pale buttocks back insistently, trying to force the Slytherin to continue his teasing caresses, "Fuck me..." he abruptly rasped, voice near breaking point, "Draco,  _please_... Fuck. Me."  
  
Draco's cock jerked so hard upwards against his body that he spattered his shirt front with quickly flying precum droplets, the milky liquid sinking into the material so quickly that both they and Potter's quiet begging seemed as though it had never happened.  
  
"Say... say that again." Draco didn't try to sound demanding, or sultry, or sexy or anything that might have given him back the control he so needed. He simply had to hear those words said to him once more.  
  
Harry craned his head round, eyes heavy lidded with desperation behind his lenses, biting into that lower lip that Draco had come to so love, quick, sure tongue tip flashing out to wet the obviously sore flesh. "Draco..." he whimpered breathlessly, "Fuck me...  _PLEASE_?"  
  
Surrender. No, not surrender because that implied war, that Draco had conquered him and whilst Draco had very much enjoyed bending Potter to his will, this was So. Much. Better.  
  
Potter wanted him. He wanted Potter and he had him. Had him begging, in fact.  
  
Every tiny hair on Draco's body lifted up in salutation of the moment. Draco Malfoy had NEVER felt this satisfied... this... this.... Oh ...  _happy_ , for as long as he could remember.  
  
"You want me." he whispered, waiting for the quick lash of self-hatred that normally seared him after uttering such telling words, daring to question his own resistibility but finding nothing but an insanely fizzing pleasure in his belly at Harry's low whine.  
  
"Want you so much," the brunet breathed, "Want you to fuck me."  
  
"My," Draco drawled, too late to snatch it back, "Aren't we feeling submissive today?"  
  
Harry's head shot round, glare in place as much from habit as irritation.  
  
"Fuck you." He spat and made as though to pull away, stilling almost too quickly as Draco seized his hips.  
  
"No, Potter." He leaned down to lick a soft stripe over Harry's now taut and straining shoulder. "And pretending that you're not fucking desperate for me to get on and fuck you doesn't make your submitting any less true."  
  
Harry hissed and twisted but Draco's hand was beneath his jaw and turning him into a kiss before he could do more than pull his lips back to bare his teeth.  
  
"Every time you let me ram myself into your tight little body you're submitting to me, to  _this_ ," Draco stated softly against the brunets mouth, goosebumps lifting on his skin as the next words fell from his lips "And every time I realise I can't stop or... or I need to taste you... _I'm_ submitting to this... to you... alright?"  
  
He pulled back abruptly, cheeks flushed with mortification. "Now quit being such a melodramatic twat so I can fuck you already..."  
  
Harry huffed in gentle indignation but his cheeks coloured delicately and there was an odd quirk to the corners of his lips as he lowered and braced himself against the wooden stall wall once more, pushing his hips back just hard enough to show both enthusiasm and control at once.  
  
Draco bit back his own twisted grin.  
  
Somehow their utterly unwilling capitulation to one another was highly amusing and more to the point, equally damning and that made him feel oddly... free.  
  
He pressed the snub tip of his now emphatically rigid cock to the snug hollow of Potter's entrance and pushed ever so gently.  
  
"Let me in, Gryffindor..." he coaxed throatily and lacked the energy and willpower to prevent the moan that erupted from him when the brunet arched his back and whimpered, his tight hole spasming and actually opening to grant him entrance as he slid in those first slick all important inches into Potter's body.   
  
_Good Boy._  
  
Potter'd learned to take him in, more... he  _wanted_  to take him, all the way inside and faster than they were already going if the impassioned swivelling of his hips and gentle whimpering was anything to go by.  
  
"Ohhh, that's so-o good," Draco murmured appreciatively, hands resting on the gentle swells of Harry's buttocks as he watched the brunets actions cause his cock to slide neatly in and out of his now wet and slippery hole, never able to achieve any depth beyond the initial few inches, near sobbing at the lack of contact he was getting.  
  
"Hold still," Draco whispered, tightening his grip on Harry's flanks, biting into his lower lip as he carefully pushed all the way in, smiling crookedly as he noted how Potter tried to push himself onto his toes as the pleasure ran through him. "Better?" He whispered smugly, ignoring the trembling in his own thighs to better observe Potters.  
  
"So, so... good... when you just slide in... like that..."  
  
Draco blushed hotly. He couldn't quite explain it but the Gryffindor's rasping honesty, his quiet confession as to just what it was that Draco did so well, made him want to do it again. And again.  
  
He clenched the few muscles remaining to him that hadn't turned to jelly and slowly withdrew 'til just the crown remained within the tightly clenching ring of muscle, ignoring the brunets cries of negation as he managed to gently pull himself all the way free, watching in amazement as his rigid shaft bobbed and seemed to almost lengthen in its own desperation to be back inside the smaller boy.  
  
"No, please..." Harry's fingers were white against the rough reddish brown of the wood, body shuddering wildly, parting his lips to further object only let his breath leave him in a great expulsion of ecstasy as Draco suddenly sank straight back into him, a long slow glide directly up to the hilt. "Fuck..." he whispered and Draco's eyes near rolled back in his skull as the brunets tight entrance milked and rapturously squeezed around the base of his cock.  
  
Slowly he repeated the motion, drawing out 'til the head popped out past the writhing brunets grasping muscle only to literally sink his flesh back in until Harry's balls jerked and rested against his.  
  
It was fucking  _hot_.  
  
"Faster." Harry sobbed.  
  
Draco quirked an eyebrow. He'd never particularly been one for constructive criticism and he had rather thought he was doing precisely what the apparently picky prick wanted but...  
  
"Please, god, please Draco.... It's too good, faster, please... I need to come, want to come... Please..."  
  
Draco closed his eyes and fought the desire to come right there and then. After all, what was a little 'direction' if Harry Potter BEGGING immediately followed it?  
  
He snapped his hips forward and felt every cell in his body stand up and scream its applause as the so longed for little 'Hhh' noises began to spill past Potter's luscious red lips, each pull backwards rewarded with a soft sob, followed by those deliciously breathless pants as he slammed back in.  
  
He looked down and nearly swallowed his tongue.  
  
His hips continued of their own volition, hands still firmly gripping Potter's firm white hindquarters in what was possibly a slightly too forceful grip and as he gazed downwards, mouth agape, he was able to watch his own flesh blurring as he pummelled back and forth out of Harry's slick and welcoming hole.  
  
"Oh god." He whispered, sweat gleaming on his skin and he felt his body respond to the new stimuli, shoving harder and faster than he had expected, blood rushing and lungs burning where he was forgetting to breathe.  
  
He was fucking Harry Potter, in broad daylight no less, the stable doors thrown wide where anyone could see them there, and even as his muscles crumbled and cramped from the effort of not collapsing as he drove into him again and again, he couldn't stop, couldn't tear his eyes from where the lubricant shone wetly on his flesh and Harry's as he slid in and out, glistening in the clear days sun.  
  
It was... it was almost beautiful, and then Potter was twisting, looking back at him over his shoulder, flushed and panting and wetting his lips as he moaned Draco's name and fuck if he wasn't beautiful too.  
  
" _Gods_..." Draco whispered again and pressed his whole frame forwards, chest locking tight over the Gryffindor's spine as he freed a hand to sink into Harry's hair, holding him in place as he seized the brunets mouth and, with a sob, came so hard it _hurt_.  
  
His body shook and jerked, still continuing to thrust in and out of Potter even as the warm jets of semen poured into him, already slipping out and down his thighs with Draco's every outward stroke.  
  
"Sorry, sorry, m'sorry...." Draco murmured feverishly, voice tight with real regret as Harry whimpered into his kiss, able to feel the slow softening of the Slytherin's cock inside him.  
  
He yanked his body backwards, shivering as the dual wet noises as both their mouths and bodies parted, Harry moaning low in his throat at the loss before gasping as Draco roughly grabbed his hips. His fingers pressed too hard over his pelvic girdle, likely leaving cruel bruises to mar his skin as the Slytherin spun him, dropping to his knees and actually grunting with pleasure as the sudden turn brought Harry's dripping and bobbing cock close enough to slap wetly against his cheek.  
  
"Mmm," Draco murmured inadvertently, licking his lips and inclining his face so that the messy head dragged from one cheek, over his mouth to the other cheek, face shining and slick from the precum near pouring from Harry's slit. "Don't you worry," He purred, bringing a hard up to close about Harry at the root, steadying the bouncing, twitching shaft as he pressed his lips tight against the head, "Gonna make it up to you."  
  
And then he had Harry Potter's cock in his mouth. Again.  
  
He'd have been horrified by the regularity of the occurrence if he didn't love doing it SO much.  
  
He slid his mouth all the way down the shaft 'til his lips met his minutely stroking fist, working his tongue about the flesh in his mouth as much as he could but unable to get even vaguely close to achieving the depth from the night before. He pouted as he pulled back up to the head, enthusiastically suckling at the crown, too breathless and admittedly sore to be able to attempt to deepthroat the wildly keening brunet.  
  
He sat back slightly, now stroking his hand all the way up and down the hot length, flickering his tongue over the head and repeatedly dragging his lips back and forth, side to side 'til it felt more like he was making out with the Gryffindor's steadily secreting cock than sucking on it. He lifted his eyes to meet Potter's, blushing as he noted the Gryffindor's slack jaw and widely dilated pupils, each harsh pant punctuated with a soft thrust against the blond's parted lips.  
  
"You want to fuck my mouth?" The words spilled from Draco with the ease that only water and truth have ever managed, a dark red blush creeping up from both boy's chests to stain their faces.  
  
Harry nodded once jerkily, swaying in place where only the hand digging into his hip seemingly prevented him from toppling.  
  
Draco parted his lips as far as he was able... well, as far as he was prepared to whilst still feeling secure that he looked good, plump pink lips now glossy with precum and spit, just open enough to let Potter's cock slide through without dragging 'too' much...  
  
"Wait," he whispered, sitting back slightly, still retaining his grip about the base, and meeting Harry's eyes near shyly. "My throats... sort of sore, so... not too deep, or hard, ok?"  
  
A corner of Harry's mouth tilted up and he couldn't have explained why the Slytherin's quiet confession and confidence so delighted him if his life depended on it. "Ok." He whispered.  
  
"And Potter... tell me when you're going to come."  
  
Harry's eyes squeezed shut reflexively, another quick burst of precum pouring from his cock.  
  
"Not gonna be long..." he murmured and Draco grinned, swiping his tongue quickly through the clear, oozing liquid.  
  
"Get to it then." He commanded and let his mouth drop open at the head once more.  
  
Harry opened his eyes, swayed once more, grinned and then promptly slid his cock into Draco Malfoy's eagerly waiting mouth.  
  
"Fuu-uuuck." He said succinctly, before pulling his hips back, sliding his cock out and laughing breathlessly when Draco followed it, slurping and sucking as though determined to not let the Gryffindor's prick slide free.  
  
He moved, without meaning to, shoving his hands deep into the Slytherin's sleek blond locks and gripping tight, following the Head Boy's movements rather than dictating them.  
  
"Yes," he whimpered, unable to hold it back, "Suck me..."  
  
Draco's hips were jerking in time with Harry's cock thrusting heavily back and forth past his lips. He could feel the arousal pooling in his belly just from the sensation of being so full of Potter's cock again, still sulking on the inside at his inability to attempt to take him all the way down.  
  
He would next time though, he'd drink Potter in so deep he'd feel it striking the walls of his stomach when the brunet came. Speaking of which...  
  
Harry's thrusts were becoming more erratic and he was sobbing between pants, fluid draining from his cock into Draco's mouth with great speed now and he knew it was time to inform the Slytherin, only he could quite seem to breathe, let alone speak...  
  
"Fuh... Draco... god... gonna... gonna.... God....  _Ahhh_...."  
  
Draco smiled around the thick cock in his mouth and pulled back, opening his mouth wide enough for Potter to see his cockhead resting half on Draco's lower lip, half on his extended tongue, moaning approvingly.  
  
"Mmmm." He said and arched his body, stilling mid arch at the Gryffindor's impassioned wail, hands back at his hips to prevent him thrusting deep once more as Draco cried out too, ribbons of silky come pouring out over his tongue and lips, dribbling down his throat and over his chin, his eyes closing, his own cock stood rigidly to attention once more, swallowing over and over as the brunet came and came in thick, sticky bursts.  
  
He dipped his head, taking the entirety of Harry's now softening length into his mouth once more, cleaning it of the come that had escaped his hungry lips, pulling back off at the sensitised brunets low moan, before being quickly crushed as said brunet crumpled down atop him, covering his body and pressing him back into the soft straw, kissing him wildly.  
  
They wrapped their arms about each other and panted in unison, Harry's quick tongue laving his own come from the hollows of Draco's jaw and the Slytherin arched his spine and moaned encouragingly.  
  
_Nothing_  was better than this. He fucking loved it and as he opened his eyes to meet Harry's overwhelmed and shining green gaze, the strangest thought occurred to him.  
  
What if he didn't give this up? He didn't want to stop.  
  
He sank a hand roughly into the Gryffindor's sweat heavy, dark hair and yanked their mouths back together.  
  
What if it didn't stop...


	7. The Challenge Needs Retitling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 7 of the 'Porn War Against dreambastion for Making me Squirm in Company' series.  
> Summary: More fun in the stable yard, discovery, betrayal, angst &, oh yes, porn. :P

**The Challenge Needs Retitling:**

 

_(Previously)  
  
They wrapped their arms about each other and panted in unison, Harry's quick tongue laving his own come from the hollows of Draco's jaw and the Slytherin arched his spine and moaned encouragingly.  
  
Nothing was better than this. He fucking loved it and as he opened his eyes to meet Harry's overwhelmed and shining green gaze, the strangest thought occurred to him.  
  
What if he didn't give this up? He didn't want to stop.  
  
He sank a hand roughly into the Gryffindor's sweat heavy, dark hair and yanked their mouths back together.  
  
What if it didn't stop...   
_  
The hay crunched and rustled softly beneath the writhing boys weight, neither able to break the kiss for more than the barest second to draw breath before diving back in with the single-mindedness known best to the truly addicted.  
  
Draco grunted, hand still fisted tightly in Harry's inky, silken mane, rotating aching, overused and over-stimulated hips and groin against the brunets, mindlessly adoring the way their sweat slicked skin dragged and slid together.  
  
He tore his mouth away for a brief moment, filling his lungs whilst setting his teeth against the ridge of Potter's collarbone and shuddering at the high pitched moan it drew forth, pulling back to smile and lift his mouth to the breathless Gryffindor's.  
  
"D, don't stop..." Harry whispered hoarsely, unable to process precisely why he so craved the sensation of the Slytherin's teeth against his sensitive flesh, driven near wild even in his sated state.  
  
Draco stilled, Potter's words echoing heavily in the languid recesses of his mind, so closely mirroring his own whim to simply continue their 'diversions' until dragged forcibly apart... as no doubt they would be.  
  
And if separation was imminent, necessary even... then why stop before this, this bizarre arrangement, had run its course?  
  
"I'm not." Draco whispered carelessly before biting, hard, into the brunet's already lush and blood-filled lower lip. "I'm not stopping." And then he kissed him anew and the world seemed to stop once more.  
  
Harry writhed atop Draco, seemingly brainless with his continued need, lost in the sensation of brushed silky skin and warm, firm hands and mouth, gasping and sobbing before stilling, abruptly, as the blond's renewed erection brushed his belly.  
  
He drew back, blinking down as blood rushed into his cheeks and a delighted, panting laugh gurgled outwards from his chest as his eyes dropped and lingered on the Slytherin's flushed and still stiffening member.  
  
"Wow, uhh, you... you uhh, you 'really' recover fast."  
  
Draco grinned. Pureblood playboy, Quidditch Seeker, Top Grade Student and, yes, hardest, fastest cock in the West.  
  
"Or, was... is that from... y'know?"  
  
The grin froze on Draco's face. Blood rushed (somehow) from his cock upward into his cheeks. He loved sucking Potter's cock, loved it enough that, admittedly, it turned him on enough to revive his hard-on mere moments after blowing his load in Harry Potter's tight little arse, he'd even enjoyed it enough to come from simply swallowing the Gryffindor's come. That was okay. He'd come to terms with that.  
  
But having Potter also know that? NOT okay.   
  
"I recover fast. Always have." He purred, not meeting the Gryffindor's green eyes.  
  
"So... it's  _not_  from...?"  
  
Funny, Draco mused. He'd always heard the rabid fans rhapsodising of the emerald nature of Potter's eyes, the clear and brilliant verdant colour so startling that you couldn't help but be mesmerised but... they weren't. They were just... green.  
  
He risked a quick glance upward at the Gryffindor's vaguely unfocused gaze. His eyes were normal, aside from the obviously required spectacles. Nothing special. Just vaguely myopic and green.   
  
It was sort of... nice.  
  
"Yeah... yeah it's from sucking you, Potter."  
  
_Fuck_. Goddamn green eyes.  
  
"It... it is?" Harry blinked, not knowing how nicely it made his black lashes flutter against his skin, trying to discern any trace of sarcasm in the Slytherin's tone.  
  
Draco swallowed and couldn't resist the oddly smug smile pulling at his swollen lips. There was a sort of sweet freedom in admitting it, being honest. He felt almost... powerful.  
  
But perhaps that was nothing more than a remainder from fucking Potter so hard they both shook and shuddered like the Whomping Willow mid tantrum.  
  
He secured a hand at the base of Potter's skull, fingers so tight in the jet locks that it just 'had' to be hurting, but the Gryffindor's breath only quickened as Draco used that hold to drag the Gryffindor's face back to his.  
  
"Yes, Potter. I love sucking your cock so much that it makes  _my_  cock hard as hell."  
  
Harry's blood roared in his ears and he couldn't quite draw breath.  
  
"Really?" The Gryffindor blushed at the feeble note in his voice, clearing his throat and struggling for a snatch back towards dignity. "I mean, umm, that's, that's interesting... I never realised that you would like it quite... 'So'... much."  
  
Humiliation simmered, so close to the surface that Draco wondered that his skin didn't just ignite. Draco dropped his eyes for the briefest moment, mouth still tilted in that slow, smug smile as he considered his reply.  
  
"Well I do, Potter... I fucking love sucking your cock. You like hearing that? It's true. I'm still pissed off that my throats too sore to let you fuck my mouth properly today because I sucked you down too hard and too deep last night in the showers."  
  
Maybe that was too honest, Draco reflected idly as Potter's jaw hung open. Still, at least he was in control once more.  
  
"Well... I... uhm, that is..."  
  
"I love fucking you, too. I like sticking my fingers in you, I like watching you squirm and buck and whimper when I do it, fingers or cock. I like holding you down, I like having you on top, I like knowing I leave marks on your body, I like knowing that you can't help but bite me because nothing has ever made you hot enough before to give you any other response to such an intense fucking as I give you." He broke off to kiss the brunet, brutally and bruisingly, panting against his lips. "I like it even when you make me bleed because you love my cock in you so much and I like that 'you' would rather bleed than have me pull back out of you."  
  
Harry trembled, still atop the blond but now rather tumbling to the side in his quivering lethargy, trying to turn away, to nuzzle into the Slytherin's throat. "Do you...you...?"  
  
"What? You need to hear more, Potter? Merlin if you're not demanding.... And here I thought that if I told you all at once then you'd shut up long enough to suck me off. Fine... I..."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Draco lifted an eyebrow at the rushed interruption, half put out that he had not the chance to continue his list of things he liked or wanted to do to the Gryffindor. "Yes... yes what, Potter?"  
  
"Yes... I want to suck you off.... Or... you can fuck me, I... I'm not recovering as fast as you but I don't see," a firm, vaguely roughened hand stole down to encircle Draco's throbbing erection, "Why someone with such a strong 'liking' for this all, should remain so... overlooked."  
  
Draco purred approvingly, pressing their mouths together for a long moment as the Gryffindor's firm, sure strokes left him blissful and content to grant him free reign.  
  
It would be easy, too easy to simply let the brunet stroke his renewed hard-on 'til he spilt over those pretty, clasping fingers. But that would require turning down Harry's generous offer and Draco had never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.  
  
"Potter," he mumbled softly against impressively ingenious lips, "Need you to choose."  
  
"Chew Swat?" Harry murmured back, rather too occupied with suckling Draco's tongue to pay much attention.  
  
"What you said... before," Draco pulled back infinitesimally to nip gently at Harry's jaw, "About finishing me, leaving me not... overlooked...."  
  
"Yes?" the brunet whispered, cursing himself for not having 'risen' to the occasion yet himself.  
  
"Fuck or Suck, you offered me, Potter. But I give you the choice... which would you rather?"  
  
"Suck you or be fucked by you?" Harry smiled, parting his lips to resume the kiss and then to answer, before abruptly sitting up, a frown drawing his dark brows together. "Can't." He blurted.  
  
Draco would have quirked a brow had Potter not looked quite so adorably flustered.  
  
"Can't?" He drawled gently.  
  
Harry shook his head, eyes somehow unable to move from the Slytherin's pale and confident visage. He felt the odd longing to cower away from him, warring against the prevalent urge to simply connect himself to the blonde boy by lips alone, shaken by the unnatural sensation of forthcoming doom, of the troubles that seemed to threaten at the edge of every encounter with the paler wizard. He couldn't seem to escape it, each tiny inkling that felt so close, by the merest breath, to happiness, was almost instantaneously suffocated by incipient dread.  
  
Such a thing as this, between them, Malfoy and him, Him and Draco Malfoy, could never last.  
  
His stomach tightened and lurched and he forced his head clear with a vehement shake and fierce scrunching shut of his eyes, voice betraying nothing of the abrupt panic in his belly.  
  
"I can't choose, I... I can't decide." He whispered, blushing as his gaze rested on the Slytherin's still rosily erect cock.  
  
Draco felt an odd blush rise in his cheeks, not of mortification or even the now expected pleasure.... Or, maybe it was pleasure, just... of a different sort. Less violent, more... warming. He placed two fingers beneath the Gryffindor's lowered chin and lifted the brunet's mouth almost gently to his.  
  
"All those spells," he muttered against the hot, silken flesh of Potter's mouth-watering lips, "All those hours I could fuck you and still it'd never be enough, would it?"  
  
Harry made a distant keening noise, folding bonelessly into Draco's embrace, letting the Slytherin simply drink him in, murmuring disconsolately as the thought caught and held in the outer recesses of his mind. Somehow it was never quite enough... yet somehow just still too much to bear.  
  
"What I need," Draco growled to the abruptly, entirely compliant brunet, "is a cloning charm... they're outlawed but somehow I think I'll never feel like I've fully conquered you 'til I've had you, every inch of you, willing and so fucking full of me that there's no room for anyone else."  
  
He speared a hand back through the damply curling dark hair, viciously yanking Harry's head so that the blond could press his mouth tight against the Gryffindor's waiting ear.  
  
"You'd like that... wouldn't you? Me, fucking your tight ass while the other me fucks your mouth and, just for fun, maybe another me, two even, licking every inch of your body, sucking you down and biting your skin so hard you'd like to scream... only you can't... you're too full of me, choking on my cock and breathless as I fuck you...."  
  
"Yes..." Harry sobbed, body-weight resting fully against the slightly taller boy as the sweet heaviness of imagined pleasure and utter abandonment sang and sped thickly through his veins like wine. "Oh gods, yes.... Yes,  _please_...."  
  
Draco pushed Harry away, further onto their impromptu bed of fragrant, soft hay.  
  
"I'd have you on your knees, hands and knees, braced for me to take you any way I wanted..." he rasped, eager, bruising hands already pushing and pulling the lust-filled quiescent boy Hero into place, eyes raking over the long bare thighs, shirt un-tucked and mostly torn open, black school trousers knotted and shoved down about his knees. "You'd be naked... so I could see.... Taste every last inch of you."  
  
Harry immediately pushed himself upright, knowing he should be nervous, should feel more aware and unsure of being naked in the highly public stables, bared before the eyes of his former... current...  _possible_  enemy... again.  
  
But he wasn't. All he knew was that he needed to be naked and that most of that need was caused by the fact that  _Draco wished it_.  
  
Hurried, clumsy fingers pushed at the mass of rumpled black material at his knees, trying to push the trousers away over his still fastened shoes, tangling himself further as the folds caught and stuck over the awkward planes of the scuffed surfaces.  
  
Draco chuckled, the noise warm and welcome low in his chest, as he observed the Gryffindor's haphazard and frenzied attempts to disrobe. His own smooth, deft fingers were loosening buttons and fastenings across his own body, aware of the crackle of awareness shooting over his skin as he bared yet more of his alabaster skin to the all-seeing daylight.  
  
He felt his cock jerk approvingly as Harry's muscles bunched and released in his hurry to shuck his outer layers, watching the skinny yet firm body slowly reveal itself to him amidst many grunts and muffled swear words from the brunet.  
  
He wanted to laugh, not his usual style of mirth, the scornful superiority trickling out of him in spiteful sniggers, but a full, deep chortle of delight and desire, simply because he felt... good. Good about himself, good about what he was about to do... Good in general.  
  
Fuck his Father. Fuck the impending war. Fuck embittered and clichéd school rivalry.  
  
Fuck everything... but  _this_.  
  
"Y'know," the Gryffindor mock snarled, "This'd go a lot faster and easier if you'd stop grinning at me long enough to use that fancy little stripping charm of yours... that is, unless you like me all twisted up in my own trousers. It's not quite bondage but then who really knows how your warped mind works..."  
  
The Slytherin's hand shot out, long white fingers slapping themselves sharply against the brunets exposed buttocks, smiling yet more broadly at the Gryffindor's surprised yelp.  
  
"Ah but, you see, you're already fast and easy enough for me as it is, Potter... and while you 'are' correct, this form of bondage is rather bruising to my artistic sensibilities..." It really was, bunched up material had nothing on the sleek, sinuous black leather belt, "it still leaves me with the part I find myself most concerned with left on display and with full easy access."   
  
He pushed a finger between Harry's cheeks and into his still slick hole, moaning quietly in time with the Gryffindor, cock twitching then spasming violently as he noted the reddened patch on one cheek... he'd have to try the whole 'Spanking' thing later, when he had more patience and less desire to just rigorously fuck the other boy.  
  
Deftly, he plucked he wand from his pocket, keeping it unseen at his side as the brunets eyes rolled in his head, as Draco forcibly pulled his finger back from Harry's clenching entrance. He leaned forward to quickly stroke his tongue over that intriguingly blushing and sore patch of skin, muttering the disrobing charm thickly against the hot flesh and smirking as the brunet used his newfound freedom to cast himself into Draco's waiting clasp.  
  
"Good Boy." Draco chuckled, only to find his mouth unceremoniously sealed by the Gryffindor's, fingers tight in his hair and a hot, hard body undulating against him.   
  
"Why do you always say that...?" Harry panted, between nips and sucks over Draco's lower lip, jaw and collarbone, "I'm not your fucking dog, y'know."  
  
Draco shrugged stiffly, not caring to use his mind for any purpose other than devising ways to fuck his apparently inquisitive companion.  
  
"You take my cock like a pro, Potter...what can I say? Now, less questions or I'll have to shut you up..."  
  
Something in Draco clenched and spun at the light that appeared instantly Potter's eyes.  
  
"Like... with your cock? Sounds like a plan."  
  
_Fuck... GOOD boy, fucking amazing Good Boy.  
_  
"Oh... you decided then? Suck it, not fuck it?" Draco drawled, trying to prevent the shivers that felt like they were hiding just beneath his skin.  
  
Harry wrapped his arms tightly about Draco's neck and sagged into him with a soft whine, nipping none too gently at every patch of skin within mouths range.  
  
"Well, as I can't have both..." he muttered mock petulantly, "I guess I'll go with the one I've not done yet today."  
  
Draco smiled, lips spreading over pristine and almost too straight white teeth, about to snatch a fistful of black hair and push Potter's head down to his cock when abruptly, over Potter's smooth shoulder, his eyes lit on something wonderful: Possibility.  
  
Could he? No. Far too dangerous... but perhaps...  
  
...With the right charm or two...?  
  
No...  
  
...Could he?  
  
He kissed Potter, swift and brutally, pulling back near instantly to watch the look on the brunets face, blood seething in him as the heat simmered then leapt in the green, glazed depths.  
  
Fuck.   
  
Yes.  
  
He could do it... he'd just be  _REALLY_  fucking careful.  
  
A hand shot up, tightening at Potter's smooth, strong throat, somehow adoring the bob of Harry's Adam's apple as it shot down then up with surprise.  
  
"On your hands and knees." Draco ordered, his voice clipped and cool. "You will not move unless I say so. Understood?"  
  
Green eyes fluttered, momentarily and then a small voice said, "Draco?" even as the blond pulled away, reaching for his inspiration, halting and pulling back at the sound of his name, in that tiny slightly frightened voice.  
  
He met Potter's gaze, resenting the sudden flare of... protectiveness???.... caused by the quiet consternation shown by the Gryffindor.  
  
"Don't worry, I won't hurt you..." he whispered, wondering when that had EVER been a priority for him before now, dipping down to press a single fevered kiss to the damp lips, not questioning why the one kiss lasted for quite so many long moments before pulling away. "Trust Me." he whispered, attempting to not stiffen as he considered Potter's probable hysterical reaction to such an entreaty.  
  
A soft mouth quickly pressed back against his, Potter butting his nose against Draco's in an oddly shy yet commanding manner, pushing the Slytherin up and away.  
  
He knew he shouldn't trust him. He wasn't sure he did or even could.  
  
But he wanted to.  _Gods_ , how he wanted to.  
  
With a shiver and a small smile, Harry braced himself more firmly, thighs spread wide for whatever the blond had in mind.  
  
"Do it." He murmured gently, closing his eyes on a soft, blissful moan as the Slytherin skated hot, sure fingers down his spine to possessively cup his ass.  
  
"You're going to like this, Potter, I promise." Draco muttered, abruptly breathless as his hand tightened on its prize, lifting the forgotten pitchfork to his side.  
  
" _Magnus Excolo_ ," he whispered in tones thick with dread as well as excitement, watching as the pitchforks handle abruptly gleamed then dulled as the wood was enchanted smooth, polished down to a fine finish, seemingly lacking in splinters or any sort of wood fibre. Draco frowned. A splinter in the arsehole would fucking hurt.   
  
Better safe than sorry, he decided. " _Teres_." He whispered for good measure, smirking as the wood coated itself in a sleek, shining coat, smooth as glass as he ran his fingers over it, judging its girth in his hand.  
  
Slightly less impressive than what Potter was becoming accustomed to, by width.  
  
Perfect.  
  
" _Torpeo_ ," he muttered, aware somehow that his voice was slower, deeper, somehow more sultry as his mind overloaded him with visuals of what he was about to do, holding the pitchfork aloft and feeling himself quiver as it remained resolutely where he left it, immovable.... Gleaming...Safe.  
  
"Potter," he murmured, unable to believe how thick with desire his voice had become, "I want you... to, to keep yourself wide open, like that, and ease ever so slightly backwards 'til I say stop."  
  
Harry's spine arched and straightened as he pushed his hips and buttocks into Draco's ready grasp, whimpering low and tremulously as he felt something cold and hard nudge him between his cheeks.  
  
" _Lubricus_ ," Draco cast once more, not trusting the left over lubrication and residual come to ease the way for such an unyielding object, shivering slightly himself as he watched the slim handle become coated in the slippery substance. "Hold tight, Potter and... shuffle backwards just a tiny inch or so."   
  
The hay rustled crisply and Harry found himself laughing, breathlessly, as he wiggled rather more than moved backwards.  
  
"That far enough?" He queried briskly before catching his breath as he relaxed his posture once more and found the vaguely rounded, lube and varnish coated wooden handle now pushing insistently into the indent of his still exposed hole.   
  
"Oh... oh fuck..." He whispered.  
  
"Uhmm...  _Pulsus et Recedo, Tardus, Agito Tardus_..." Draco couldn't breathe, knew for sure that his heart was going to beat right out of his chest in its frenzy as the fork's handle pressed slowly inside the gasping Gryffindor.  
  
"Fuck... Draco... god, god..." Harry shook, harder then the first day he'd lain eyes on Voldemort, out in the forest with the self same boy now fucking him with an inanimate object, a god-damned 'tool' unable to explain quite why his entire person felt so raw at this unnatural intrusion.  
  
"Close your eyes," Draco commanded brusquely, voice hoarse as he watched the blunt handle enter by an inch or so before pulling back, the charm working its magic as the pitchfork slowly, gently (god, SO gently, so carefully) fucked the golden boy of Gryffindor. "Can't you feel me... I'm fucking you, Potter.... Can you feel me inside you?"  
  
Harry couldn't reply, the harsh, burning gusts of air the burst their way from his lungs were just too relentless to speak past, gasping as though each breath was his last. He found himself obeying the Slytherin quickly, needing to feel that 'too much... but still not enough' burn and know it to be him.   
  
He squeezed his eyes, tight shut, feeling his body resist still, just slightly, knowing the object pushing inside it to be not of flesh and blood no matter how much lubrication guided its way in. But with his eyes shut... in his minds eye...  
  
...Draco Malfoy was fucking him.  
  
Teasing, tiny short strokes only just inside him, too hard almost for his body to bear but god-DAMN if he wouldn't kill just to feel him ram in all the way home, feel that burn and stretch, same as the first night he'd shoved his fingers inside him. It was too good. It was too much...  
  
...It wasn't nearly enough.  
  
"F... ff....  _faster_..." He managed to choke out as his gasping gradually steadied, beginning to push into the unforgiving woods strokes with his hips. "Malfoy... fuck me faster."  
  
Draco smiled, triumph lighting his face. The closest he had ever come to this feeling before had been throwing Potter's feelings in his face, hurting his friends, tearing the fragile happiness out from under his feet... and now here he was, aching to make him cry out in pleasure because now even the begging wasn't enough. Nothing short of total and complete capitulation was enough.  
  
Slowly, near caressingly, so that Potter wouldn't feel abandoned (and since when did that matter so much?) Draco removed his hands, and, stroking long fingers up and over the brunets arching spine, he moved to kneel at Harry's head.  
  
"Maybe," he purred, lifting the fingers that had sunk inside and over the entirety of the quivering boy to gently touch the lip being so cruelly bitten into, "Maybe I'll fuck you faster... if...?"  
  
Harry opened bleary eyes, sweat sticking his fringe to his forehead in dark tufts as he licked a mouth tender from overuse, staring upward, sunlight dappling his glistening skin as Draco watched that him croak just one word.  
  
"If?"  
  
Draco smiled, stroking just the pads of his fingertips along the underside of his cock, lifting the prettily weeping, flushed head to hover, throbbing, before Potter's rosy, parted lips.  
  
"Best of both worlds, Potter." He whispered. "Just the way you wanted it."  
  
And Harry elongated his tongue, pushing out past his lips, the tip pointed just so and gently lapped, drinking Draco in.  
  
" _Leviter Ocium_..." The barest whisper but from the Gryffindor's moan the blond felt it might have been uttered with 'Sonorous'.  
  
Slowly, chest heaving as the rigid wood pushed in and in, Harry drew in the bulbous head and sucked, mewling gently as the precum drizzled onto his tongue.  
  
Draco inclined his hips, just slightly, better able to bear his own weight in this stance and, by a delightful coincidence, it happened to press his length just a touch deeper into the brunet's warm, wet mouth.  
  
"Fuck yes." He whispered, despite himself, too lost in the reverence of Potter's mouth upon him to care about the odd gentleness of his tone.  
  
Harry's blood sang and spat within him, racing through the narrow corridors of his veins and clamouring angrily at the surface of his skin, desperate to break through, needing, like every other part of his body, to be closer to Draco in any way it could be.  
  
He was being fucked with wood, wood and magic and only Draco's hot, real cock in his mouth tied him to the moment, pulsating and dripping as it drew back and forth across his tongue, allowing him breath momentarily, here and there, but denying him the pleasure of actually being inside him and Harry could have wept.  
  
Wood was no substitute. The fantasy, boiling behind his eyes with every flicker shut was nothing by comparison. Draco in his head, sliding slickly in and out of him at either end, fingers both cradling his skull and gripping his hips... Fucking him absolutely.  
  
But it wasn't true, it wasn't even a good lie because where there should be flesh and heat, just enough give to stroke his inner walls where Draco's hard cock somehow moulded itself and stroked inside him, there was nothing but wood and magic.  
  
And it just wasn't good enough.  
  
Harry slid down, taking as much of Draco's length into his mouth as he was able, quietly mourning the fact that he was still nothing like as talented as the Slytherin in this department, smiling slightly as he pondered the sensations he had yet to experience. He had time yet to learn, he very much doubted the Slytherin would remain content to go un-deep-throated for much longer.   
  
He moaned, inclining his head from side to side and dragging his lips in a lewd mockery of a kiss against the blond's turgid thick heat, pressing hot, sweet pecks to just the tip in sad farewell before lifting his head to meet Draco's eyes.  
  
"It's not the best," he gasped softly, speaking faster than he was able, breathless, as the Slytherin's gaze narrowed, "it's nothing, nothing compared to having you."  
  
He pulled back and up as far as he was able, all too suddenly unwilling to press the wood any deeper into himself, trying to gain height enough to look clearly into Draco's face.  
  
"Short of a cloning charm, like you said, this isn't even close to conquering me, Malfoy." He drew in a breath, steeling himself for the honesty about to break free. "You want to fill me, 'til there's no room for anyone else? Fuck me yourself. It's all it'll take."  
  
Draco tilted his head, wavering himself, dizzy with prolonged, aching arousal, letting Harry's words wash over him.  
  
"You just... want me?" He muttered, admittedly confused.  
  
Harry grinned, lopsidedly, blushing faintly. "Accept no substitutes."  
  
The Slytherin quirked a brow. "So... you were able to choose after all."  
  
"Between you and wood? Easily." He shrugged, as much as he was able, his blush deepening. "Doesn't mean I'm not still interested in that cloning charm thing, were you to ah, stumble across it."  
  
Draco bit back a smile himself, adopting a severe tone. "Tut, tut, Potter... goody-goody Gryffindor's flouting the law? I'm horrified, truly I am."   
  
Harry rolled his eyes, tongue firmly planted in his cheek. "Too horrified to get this stick out of me so you can fuck me properly?"  
  
The blond moved barely a muscle, face immobile, even as his cock jerked and his skin prickled with delight and excitement. He watched, feeling the burn in his balls as the wood slid in then out then into Harry, his wand then swishing at his side, the spell ended just as the wood drew clear, the pitchfork clattering uselessly to the ground, not having quite fulfilled its purpose.  
  
Moving swiftly, sinuously (if he did say so himself), Draco slunk backwards a few feet, laying, sprawling out atop the hay before gesturing in seeming welcome towards his all-too interested prick.  
  
"Get moving then, Golden Boy." His mouth twitched as the hated nickname caused the other wizard to roll his eyes. "Climb aboard."  
  
"Y'know," Harry remarked conversationally as he moved to straddle the blond's narrow hips, "You really are a Git. I don't see why I 'should' bother to take care of this now."  
  
Draco's lips spread into an insufferably smug smile, feeling the Gryffindor already settling his weight so that his still sticky cock head pressed into his still wide open hole.  
  
So, faked reluctance was it? So be it. He'd danced around Potter for far too long to not know this game.  
  
"Perhaps because," He began, voice a steady drawl belied abruptly by his sudden bolt upright, grabbing the brunet by nape and hair, yanking him down into a kiss and growling tight against Harry's swollen lips. "You want me inside you, more than anything else you can think of... because you want me to conquer you, yet you want to give yourself up to me... wanted it ever since that night I 'forced' you, charmed you down and even I didn't know, couldn't know how fucking hot this would be. You want this, you want this SO much you're going to 'bother to take care of  _this_ ' " he pressed his cock up against Harry persistently, "Because you don't know how to not want it any more... so you're going to sit down when I say, and fucking ride me 'til we come, understood?"   
  
Harry nodded, mute and too lost to the snarling kiss to formulate any real reply.  
  
"Good Boy. Now.... Push down onto me  _now_ …"  
  
And Harry pushed down, his momentum and bodyweight pushing Draco all the way in, clenched tightly in the hot, slick heat of Potter's body, both their cries rending the air as their bodies throbbed and spasmed as one.  
  
"God yes..." Harry sobbed, mouth slack and wet against Draco's in his jaw-dropping rapture, shaking wildly as he tried to pull up then push back down onto the Slytherin's aching length. "Fuck me... fuck me..."  
  
Draco stabbed his tongue into Harry's mouth once more, revelling in the tiny sounds already spilling past those self-same lips, the Gryffindor's sobs of pleasure already so vastly different just from having the Slytherin sink his length inside him that Draco so nearly came just from listening.  
  
He bucked up, attempting to piston his hips in time with Potter's downwards, wild thrusting, a hand racing from the brunets hair to skate over his chest and back, cupping his ribs just to feel the supposed Lion's heart thumping madly in its fragile cage.  
  
"I love, I love to fuck you.... I, I want to fuck you so long and so loud,  _fuck_  SO loudly, I want everyone to hear, everyone know the sounds I make you make when I'm inside you... fuck, yeah Potter.... Those noises," Harry had dissolved into his usual mindless, breathy gasps of helpless pleasure, "Make them loud, fucking LOUDER Potter."  
  
The hand still clenched at Potter's heaving sides shot down to seize his hips, holding him tight, possibly too tight, before rolling them, swallowing the brunet's surprised grunt as he pressed him back into the hay, already slamming in deeper, harder than before and smiling against those beautiful, luscious lips.  
  
"I want you to scream for me," he ground out, "Not just because I'm going to fuck you so hard but because I want you to scream  _FOR_  me, you understand?"  
  
Harry was shaking, senses aflame as suddenly he had everything he wanted, Draco battering into him, hard, his mouth on his, those smooth clever hands skating over his body and still he had to shake his head, dizzy with the effort of simply staying conscious.  
  
"Don'... don't think I can... I, I can't.... I, I don't scream."  
  
Draco pulled back, just slightly, just enough to look down into Harry's glazed green gaze.  
  
"Try. For me." He leant in, teeth and lips against the brunet's tender lobe, "I want to hear you, when you come... I want to hear you screaming like when I stopped fucking you last night."  
  
Harry whimpered in remembrance. "I, I'll try."  
  
Draco grinned, awash with sudden sweetness for the bright and somehow bare boy writhing beneath him, pressing a quick sweet kiss over his trembling mouth.  
  
"What, what do you want, Potter? Tell me... how do you want this, what do you like, how do you like it best... tell me. Tell me so I can fuck you so well no-one else'll ever come close."  
  
"Don't..." Harry cleared his throat, unsure of precisely how to ask for what he wanted without appearing weak or foolish, "Don't let go, ok? I, I don't like it... as much, anyway... when you, y'know, pull back and... and don't kiss me or anything."  
  
Draco's brows shot up so fast he rather imagined he pulled a muscle being shocked and horrified. "Did you say DON'T kiss you?"  
  
Harry huffed out a gentle laugh, surprising himself as he darted up to quickly lap at the Slytherin's suddenly down-turned lips.  
  
"No, no I meant I don't like it as much when you don't hold me as tight and when you 'don't kiss me' and stuff. Yeah?"  
  
Draco swallowed, resuming shallow thrusts back inside the Gryffindor, watching his eyes roll briefly in his head as he shook off the abrupt sense of misery that had arrived fast on the heels of the notion of no longer kissing Potter as he fucked him.  
  
"So," he murmured, keeping his head low so that his words were continually dragged and blurred against the brunet's refreshingly eager mouth, "How's this?"  
  
He lowered a hand from the dark locks, hauling one of Potter's long white thighs up to press wide and high, his own fingers digging into the softer flesh there even as Harry knotted his other leg tightly about Draco's hips, moaning long and deliciously clear as the closer, more open angle let Draco push in a little deeper each time.  
  
"S'good....  _AHHH_ , yeah... fuck, yeah, tha, that's good, keep, keep doing... that..."  
  
Draco smiled into the kiss that silenced the now continually groaning Gryffindor, smothering the soft sobs and cries of pleasure with an all too ready tongue, letting his other hand stray across Harry's body, still anchored against his lips as the brunet wrapped frantic arms tight about his shoulders, clinging close for dear life.  
  
Slowly his hands stroked back and forth across that most treasured territory, tracing ribs and cupping the desperate beat against his palm, letting Potter crush him now with both thighs wrapped crushingly around his lunging hips, clever fingers twisting and pinching the darkened nubs of Potter's nipples.  
  
Harry couldn't breathe. He was being kissed and fucked and touched and teased and taken so fucking well he thought he might possibly expire just from the sheer brilliance of the feeling. He needed to come. Draco's cock was driving into him, so hot and fuck it, so goddamn prettily because he knew, he just knew that they'd have to look amazing together because nothing this intense could fail to look good and besides... Draco's cock was fucking beautiful. What he wouldn't give to be able to watch Draco fuck him....  
  
Harry shuddered. It was a hell of a thought. Too good... he was so  _close_...  
  
Draco was getting groggy. The effort of slamming into Potter without breaking the kiss was awesome, the sort of quest undertaken by legendary Wizards of old to test their strength of will and heart and magic. To stop kissing Potter now would be a crime, particularly when he'd twined his tongue about Draco's, so wetly, so sweetly that they were practically drinking each other now, lungs screaming for breath, body shuddering past its boundaries under the strain. He needed to come. Potter's hands were in his hair now, twisting the sweat drenched locks about his fingers, nails scraping the sensitive skin of his scalp in his desperation to hold on.  
  
Sounds, whimpers, sobs, moans all blurred between their lips now, as Draco's fingers caught and cradled Harry's slick, convulsing cock, feeling the satin sleek hit skin throbbing in his grasp.  
  
"Mmmmfffppph." He ground out, guttural and beyond language, but he knew (and he knew Potter damn well knew as well) that what he really said was 'Come for me, and you'd better fucking scream your lungs out.'  
  
And then he squeezed, twisting, just below the head and felt Potter die... just a little.  
  
Harry's body betrayed him. It stopped taking in breath. It expanded into angles too wide, too elongated for the human body to bear, his spine relinquishing contact with the ground as only his buttocks and the top of Harry's head kept their deal with gravity, arching well beyond the point of pleasure.  
  
And then he screamed.  
  
Of course, it was silent. It's very hard to scream with a total of no air in your lungs, but he threw his head back, mouth torn unceremoniously from Draco's, the long column of his throat bared and stretched taut, lips drawn back over his teeth as his body wracked itself and came, spilling hotly over Draco's palm as Harry shook and screamed as the blackness rushed in.  
  
Draco had stilled, eyes locked on Potter the second he'd felt the stiffening of his limbs, watching with eager, ravenous eyes, as the Gryffindor was helpless but to let his pleasure pour from him.  
  
He felt the body beneath him, in his arms, go slack and momentarily, was concerned, but even as his lips parted from where his teeth had dug in, hard, lost in his appreciation, about to call Potter back from the brink he was teetering on, green eyes had flickered back open and a hoarse cough had rumbled out.  
  
"Sorry..." Potter gasped.  
  
"Sorry?" Draco quipped back, confused and vaguely embarrassed as a droplet of sweat fell from the tip of his nose to splash wetly against Harry's collarbone.  
  
"No... scream... and you've... still.... Not come..."  
  
Draco grinned. He had neither the time nor inclination to play at superiority right now.  
  
"Believe me Potter... I heard it." He leaned down to press a fast kiss over the still slack and panting lips before rolling his pelvis, relishing the quiet moan as Potter's eyes flickered shut again, a tiny smile now playing about those lips. "As to the other... Harry. I rather think it's easily solved, don't you?"  
  
"Mmhmm." Harry concurred decidedly, running now gentle fingertips over where he'd imbedded his nails in extremis mere moments before, nuzzling into Draco's throat.  
  
"I'm sorry... what was that?" Draco chuckled, a touch hysterical now, balls uncomfortably tight and hot and all he wanted was to pound into Harry, come in him so hard in spilled out of him in waves.  
  
"Fuck me." Harry rasped, voice oddly commanding, if weakened. "Hard." He bit Draco's throat, not bothering to be gentle and felt the Slytherin's hips stab forward with sensation. "Now."  
  
Whatever other orders he may have been about to issue were lost as Draco's mouth crashed down over his again, wide open now, panting and finally sharing oxygen as he surged and slammed into the willing boy, tearing his mouth away to mutter thickly into his ear, lips wet with shared saliva.  
  
"Going to.... Going to come in you... so hard..."  
  
"Yesssssss..." Harry near hissed, gaining the strength enough to tightly bind himself about the taller boy once more, hips jutting up against Draco, matching him thrust for thrust as he clung and clawed at his shoulders, biting and kissing every inch of skin he encountered.   
  
"Fuck me, fuck me...please Draco... _fuck me_...."  
  
And Draco came, aware as he thrust in, battering really, that the harsh slap and sting came from his body literally slamming into Harry's, colliding hip bones and ribs and noses and jaws and everything else all unimportant as he spilt and shot deep into the Gryffindor, muffling his own howl of pleasure and triumph (gods even grief that it had actually ended) into the brunets waiting eager mouth.  
  
He felt the same darkness that had tempted Potter beckoning him at the outer fields of his vision and shook it away, burying his face in the glistening hollow of Harry's throat, panting and moaning none too gently as the sweet pain of release turned his limbs to stone.  
  
He lay awhile, aware of Potter's fingers twisting the wet hair at his nape, ruffling the locks so that sweetly cool air was able to wash up over his scalp, feeling the other hand rubbing pointless yet oddly soothing circles over his back, gentle words of nonsense whispered softly, so softly at his temple.  
  
He could have wept.  
  
His whole life, his dreams, and nothing had ever been as perfect as his supposed sworn foe cradling him in his arms as he came down from the heights of rapture.  
  
This wasn't allowed to mean as much as this. It shouldn't feel the way it was starting to.  
  
This was meant to be about power and control. He was meant to have that, those things, over Potter. This was meant to be Malfoy  & His Bitch, a comedy in as many acts as he fucking felt like thank you very much.  
  
It was meant to be about mastering his foe. Turning the golden boy into a slave, just for him but instead Draco felt like.... He felt as though... he felt...  
  
...If Potter  _asked_  him...?  
  
A hot tear cascaded over his already wet skin, unnoticed by the Gryffindor as it fell, twisting amongst the silken, salty drops of sweat spattering them both.  
  
This wasn't about loyalty. It was about fucking. Nothing more. Nothing to worry about, nothing to be afraid of...  
  
But Draco was terrified.  
  
_Don't let him ask me.  
_  
"Ok..." he ground out, perhaps a touch too harshly but covering it with a lopsided smile as he pulled back, supporting his weight on his forearms as he looked down into the Gryffindor's flushed and (FUCK) happy face. "Not that this isn't a place I very much enjoy being, I think its time we, ahh... try a little time  _apart_?" He gestured downwards to where his slowly wilting cock still nestled deep within the brunet.  
  
Harry grinned and blushed, unlocking his legs and grimacing ever so slightly.  
  
"Go for it, though, I think it might be too little too late, I'll be walking like John Wayne all day now."  
  
Draco lifted a brow.  
  
"Oh, it's a muggle thing. Cowboys always walked funny if they... ahhhhh..." Harry broke off as Draco pulled free, immediately straightening up, each groaning in turn as muscles popped and cracked, a hot throb of heat informing the brunet he'd not be walking this encounter off too easily.  
  
Draco wanted to run. Get dress and run away. He felt too raw, too sated... too much like staying and helping the Gryffindor finish his task so that they might go tumble into a boneless heap somewhere together.  
  
"I'd better go." He said casually, accio-ing his underwear and trousers, casting a swift cleansing charm over his body, hesitating before grudgingly doing the same to the boy still sprawled and naked at his feet, wishing instead he could leave his come still collecting within the brunet, Potter's own come having been smeared over each of their abdomens.  
  
He stepped into his trousers, relishing the fine material swinging coolly against his still fevered skin, watching with a small smile as Harry wriggled into his own boxers, still laying on the floor, only kneeling up to shrug carelessly into his still perspiration dampened shirt from before.  
  
He placed a warm hand on either side of Draco's waist, leaning in, chin resting just above the black band at the top of Draco's trousers, gazing up at him somewhat shyly, flushed as he nuzzled into the blond hair trailing down from the Slytherin's naval.  
  
"Can I see you later?" He asked and he didn't care how desperate he might sound. Gryffindor’s were foolhardy, reckless... and utterly tenacious.  
  
Draco had come twice inside the golden boy, received a partial blowjob and fucked him with a pitchfork handle.  
  
He did NOT need to see him again that day.  
  
"Yeah... you, you want to come to my room tonight?" The words left him on a quiet breath, only just making it to Harry's ears, so casually, so faintly were they uttered.  
  
The Slytherin lifted a hand, stroking through Harry's hair on an untraceable whim, eyes a little too bright as the Gryffindor sighed and pressed a tiny kiss to his stomach.  
  
Draco trembled.  
  
And then... then the world crashed down about him.  
  
"What _THE FUCK_?"  
  
Draco's head shot round so fast it hurt, feeling Potter freeze at his feet before rising, slowly finally turning himself, clad only in boxers and open shirt to face their unwanted interloper.  
  
Smith.  
  
Mother  _FUCKER_ , it just had to be goddamned Zacharias Smith.  
  
"Smith..." Draco began with no real idea of how the hell he was going to spin this.  
  
Oh god, he'd tell everyone. His father would find out. He'd have to be silenced. Potter, Potter could make him hold his tongue, Potter....  
  
Potter.  
  
Potter was shaking. Eyes shut. Fists clenching, unclenching at his side.  
  
"What'd you do, Malfoy? Tell him if he sucked your cock, let you fuck him, that you'd turn from Daddy and Uncle Dark-Lord?"  
  
Draco said nothing. He watched Harry's face, waiting.  
  
"Someone fucking talk to me!? Or can you not, too busy, got a reporter waiting in the bushes, ready for the story to match the pictures? ANSWER ME, MALFOY YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!"  
  
Draco didn't flinch, could see Smith striding closer on the periphery of his vision, lip curling into a snarl at the furiously flung words, still facing Harry as he watched and waited...  
  
Harry's eyes sprang open, right after the word 'Pictures'.  
  
He shook, stomach turning over, noting how carefully the Slytherin watched for his reaction, the sneer twisting what had seemed such a fucking lovely face.  
  
"You..." Harry began, voice grating over what felt like... couldn't be, couldn't be betrayal, disbelief... it couldn't be... couldn't be...  
  
Draco wanted to die. "Me." He agreed, voice thick with cruelty, piled upon viciousness to hide the hurt, mouth twisting upwards into a smile as he spun, stepping into Smith's body-space.  
  
"You want answers, Smith? Like what? How hard does he like it? Does he swallow? " He side-stepped the equally trembling blond Hufflepuff, spinning, arms held wide as though embracing the world in general. "Come now, what would you like to know? I'll even cut you a deal if you like... after all, being first in line should reap 'some' rewards, don't you agree? How's this...?"  
  
He couldn't even look at Harry, couldn't bear to see how he now snatched and stumbled into his own trousers, back turned on him, undoubtedly scrabbling for his wand.  
  
"I'll give you my autograph now... 'The Boy Who Fucked the Boy Who Lived'? It'll be worth quite a bit shortly, who knows, I may have to start charging for them after I sell the rights to stories of Potter's ass to the 'Prophet'..."  
  
Harry was facing him, wand in hand now, but he wasn't casting, wasn't doing anything but standing there, frozen, somehow appearing worse than when he'd spun around.  
  
"Mister Smith," came a cool, snide and utterly terrifying voice, " I believe I must ask you to first let 'me' speak with Mister Malfoy."  
  
Harry gulped, stammering something unintelligible, stamping bare feet into his shoes and simply sweeping his remaining clothes into a bundle before straightening up, unable to meet the dark potions Masters eyes darting out then, into the light and running faster than Draco had ever seen him fly.  
  
Potter, he mused sadly, such betrayal. Should we even be surprised?  
  
He vaguely heard Snape bark at Smith to await him in his office, sending the enraged boy off with a curt word and an imperative gesture of his ample sleeves.  
  
Draco stood, eyes still focused where Potter had simply run away, ignoring the lurching bile in his gut, aware of his irate House Master stalking forward, seemingly shaking with fury.  
  
"You're not surprised, surely Professor?"  
  
Draco's voice cracked out, whip-fast and deathly true, Snape silent as he halted before him.  
  
"Surprised, Mister Malfoy? That you have had the audacity to take it upon yourself to engineer the downfall of another student who is by no means friendless or unable to defend himself? I confess I am. Even I had assumed you had more sense, more decency than this!"  
  
Draco gazed past the still furious, beak like countenance, affecting boredom even as his eyes met Snape's, eagle sharp, his clarity of voice and feeling silencing the raging Professor.  
  
"How foolish." He murmured deprecatingly, "After all, wasn't you who said it isn't as though you don't all know  _Who I Am_? Or," He sneered, looking away, summoning his remaining clothes to him with a mere flick of his wrist, "Maybe it is  _You_ , as well as Potter, Sir, who have forgotten."  
  
And he turned away from his favourite teacher, his former mentor and walked out into the sunlight, deliberately striding along a different path to the one Potter had taken, betrayal sitting heavy in his chest, and he ached, his own words burning him, taunting him from within.  
  
'How Foolish'.   
  
It seemed Draco had forgotten who he was, who he was meant to be, as well.


	8. The Challenge Concluded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 8 of the 'Porn War Against dreambastion for Making me Squirm in Company' series.  
> Summary: FINISHED!!!!! HA! You'll have to READ it to find out what happens!

**The Challenge Concluded:**

The papers came out but a day later, the front pages littered with images of the Boy who Lived, naked and moaning beneath the welcome weight of the equally naked Malfoy Heir.  
  
He was ruined. His fan clubs dispersed, young witches committed suicide at the 'loss' of chances with him and the Howlers poured in, day & night, berating Potter as an abomination.  
  
Soon, Potter came crawling back, sobbing, whimpering into Draco's shoes (where his face was pressed tight against his feet) that he'd hexed Smith into the next century for his interruption, that he felt like ending it all because he'd misjudged him, how he'd march right out and let Voldemort just knock him dead if Draco couldn't forgive him his betrayal…  
  
Then Draco laughed, kicked dirt in Potter's still weeping face and sold his story for thousands to all the major publishers and newspapers across the globe…  
  
…Draco sighed.  
  
It was a good fantasy.  
  
Better by far than the truth where Smith had told everyone, where Potter really had discarded him like used parchment and where, now, the Boy Wonder had been excused from half of his detentions, now to be served by none other than, you guessed it, Draco Malfoy: victim, villain…. Cauldron scrubber.  
  
Of course, within the seclusion of the blessed Slytherin inner sanctum, he was, ever so slightly depressingly, regaled as a hero.  
  
The versions of their ‘acts’ together seemed to travel along the same lines for a time before differing wildly, though there was the one (most commonly agreed upon by all houses) where Draco had important material either for or about Potter and had then proceeded to use this valuable information to make Harry (either sobbingly or heroically depending on your house) do whatever Draco wished of him.  
  
There were, of course, the usual allegations of rape, dark arts being used, polyjuice but all of these were eagerly shot down by the supposedly silenced (by none other than a gratuitously threatening Snape) Smith because he (unlike all others ecstatically gossiping on the subject) had actually seen the two interacting and it was he who laid down the one fact where all rumours made their base.  
  
Potter had (at least by appearance) been willing.  
  
No amount of denial or moral indignation could affect that. Smith had seen Potter kneeling before Draco, nuzzling…. Gods… kissing his lower stomach as the Slytherin had petted him like the good fuck he’d been and it had been the Hufflepuff's duty, nay… pleasure to not withhold that information, Snape or no Snape.  
  
It seemed that, despite the dazzlingly terrifying glares of both McGonagall and his own house head, the unholy alliance (if you could call it that) between Draco Malfoy & the Golden boy of Gryffindor was to become the stuff of legends.  
  
As Draco had predicted, he had become ‘The Boy Who (was at least rumoured to have) Fucked the Boy Who Lived’.  
  
It should have felt better than this.  
  
Barely an hour had passed after Potter walked away from him and he, in turn, had walked away from Snape, before he’d been marched before the Head Master.  
  
With eyes not so much twinkling as simmering with a steady (and frankly awing) power, Dumbledore had ‘requested’ to be told the truth concerning the allegations the reporters apparently hiding in the undergrowth of the school grounds and the rumoured assault upon the person of one Harry Potter.  
  
No. There were no reporters, photographers or the like on school grounds, nor were there likely to be.  
  
No. He had not assaulted Harry Potter; their ‘interaction’ had been fully consensual.  
  
Dumbledore had simply looked at him, one long straight look, before smiling, in (were Draco honest) an entirely dopey manner and twittering something about how he’d suspected it had been nothing but the usual school grapevine, before passing him back into his house heads able care.  
  
That had been where the actual discomfort had started.  
  
At first it had seemed nothing but betrayal, white hot and seething in his belly, stalking away, washing his hands of what had been, had seemed too important, too special to just cast aside before it was utterly, thoroughly over for good. So he’d been trampled? Fine then, he’d trample him right back, fucking stomp the bespectacled bastard into the ground because no one treated Draco Malfoy in such a fashion, even if he didn’t give a single shit about you.  
  
But, of course, it hadn’t stopped there.  
  
First Potter with the tiny, pathetic wound to his pride (or would have been, had he given a damn) then Snape, with the dagger in his back. Snape, his supposed mentor, his role model, the self same man who’d sunk hard, almost desperate fingers into Draco’s arm at the end of fourth year and muttered to him, shaking him almost, telling him he could be anything, anything he wanted to be, to not let anyone tell him otherwise or make his decisions for him.  
  
A shiver wracked Draco now, walking slowly through the corridors as he recalled being sent back from Dumbledore to the waiting fury of the Potions Master.  
  
It didn’t matter, he told himself, even now. It didn’t matter that this man, the only one who’d ever… well that was unimportant. Draco believed in himself and that was all that mattered.  
  
Snape was pathetic, as easily turned towards the Golden boys bright light as all the others, telling Draco he could be whoever he wanted and then damning him, betraying him, actually speaking words of warning to the scrawny brunet about how unfit, how worthless Draco, apparently, was.  
  
He’d stood before him, declining the offer (no, order) to sit, just waiting for the words of censure, so close to yet more betrayal had Draco not already passed the point where he still gave a flying fuck what his former sponsor said.  
  
Stupid.  
  
Idiotic.  
  
Pathetic.  
  
Worse than Longbottom.  
  
A greater fool than the dire trio combined.  
  
Had Draco cared these would have been cruel words indeed.  
  
But he didn’t, he was past caring.   
  
He endured the words, a carefully neutral sneer held in place, only wavering when the darkly robed professor stepped close, speaking softly. What had possessed him? Couldn’t he tell his old Professor, the one who’d so carefully guided his steps up 'til now? Why had he pretended… or had he even been pretending… was he pretending right now?  
  
Draco had said nothing, merely waiting for his punishment.  
  
It was nothing spectacular, nothing likely to give rise to the likelihood of his actually having wronged the bloody git beyond sullying his precious virtue.  
  
He was to complete his previously assigned detentions… alone, because naturally Mister Potter had been released from his obligations as per his punishment for his after hours tryst with Mister Malfoy. He had, after all, been punished enough.  
  
But not Draco. Oh no.  
  
Draco was to serve not just his own detentions but the remainder that had formerly been bestowed upon the bane of his existence as well.  
  
But what of it? So he’d discovered that Potter had all the spine of one of Snape’s pickled eels a little sooner than he’d have maybe preferred. It didn’t matter.  
  
The punishment, Smith’s smug face, Snape’s seeming sabotage of everything he might have been planning or hoping for… Potter’s pathetic lack of faith or judgement or whatever…  
  
None of it mattered anymore.  
  
He was just going to serve his detentions, complete his exams, and terrorise the few students who weren’t already living in fear of the ‘Debaucher of Hero’s’.   
  
Draco knew that many of his housemates had written home about the rumours currently circling the school, and yet no letters (and more importantly no howlers) had come from either of his parents, the usual care packages still arriving as scheduled so either his parents did not yet know or they didn’t care… Draco rather suspected the latter. He was concerned, yes, about the possible backlash but if he knew his father at all then he had an inkling that Malfoy Senior would be quietly delighted that his boy had defiled Dumbledore’s raison d’être.  
  
He might even be proud.  
  
For some reason the thought gave Draco no pleasure, as he walked slowly away out of the windows meagre night-time light. He had just spent the last three hours burning the left over Blumftobel skins (which could only be destroyed by fire or they would become toxic) from the leftovers of what appeared to be every failed potions project of that term so far.  
  
His clothes smelled of smoke, his hair reeked of smoke and his hands and cheeks felt as though the fire had scorched them a brilliantly Un-Slytherin shade of red.  
  
He shivered, turning into the passageway leading down to his room, frowning at Octavien's distressed 'tut' over his appearance as he stormed through the portrait hole and cast himself, clothes and all, into bed, pulling the blankets tight about him.  
  
Three hours in front of a roaring flame and still he couldn’t seem to get warm.  
  
He wrinkled his nose and turned his face further into the pillow.  
  
It was going to get better, he just needed to bear it, for just a little while longer then everyone, including him, could forget this entire mess and just get the fuck on with finishing this never-ending school year.  
  
He grunted angrily, and screwed his face up tight.   
  
It seemed the smoke was in his eyes as well.  
  
**************  
  
Potions, oddly enough, presented no problem at all.   
  
Potter, Granger and surprisingly enough, Longbottom, comprised the Gryffindor’s still taking the advanced course by this phase of their studies, the rest of the class a lopsided mix of Ravenclaws and Slytherins. Not a single Hufflepuff had made the grade that year, a circumstance that brought a smirk to both his and Snape’s face…. At the time. Now Draco found himself wishing that just that one Hufflepoof, preferably Smith, were present, just so the fucker could see how much he wasn’t disturbing the Slytherin's daily life.  
  
It had been made rather painfully obvious that the blond Hufflepuff had been seeking out Potter with a similar plan to Draco’s that day out in the barn. Of course, he’d have had no chance in hell, not only because Draco had been currently occupying the hole he suspected Smith was just aching to fill but because if Potter’s standard behaviour towards the simpering twat was anything to go by, the Gryffindor had at least enough sense to despise him as well.  
  
Since it had become clear that no pictures were about to show up in the paper, and no shoulder was required for Potter to cry upon, Smith had backtracked from his former plan of pursuing the Gryffindor and had resorted to attempting to make Draco’s life hell.  
  
He’d managed to round up the members of Potter’s fan-club who had yet to succumb to the lethargy and hopelessness of realising their ‘hero/dreamboat’ was a fag, and they made a point of trying to trip Draco in the halls, laughing loudly at him as they passed by him on the stairs, careful to not make eye-contact after that one fourth year’s head was hexed into a seething pus-dribbling boil and the word had spread that he was still a mean sonofabitch.  
  
Their classes, joint and otherwise, had become similar to what the muggleborn's referred to as a ‘three ring circus’ with the only notes taken generally being on the subject of who said what to whom and how they looked when they said it. Draco made a point of reacting to this with as much dignity as he could muster, i.e. with no reaction at all, but still relished the haven of the potions lab.  
  
No one dared gossip during a lesson headed by Professor Severus Snape.  
  
Unfortunately, Draco’s day had not begun well and he rather thought it was about to get that much worse when he realised that, for possibly the first time in his career, Snape was not to remain in the classroom during the actual lesson.  
  
The potions master’s already pinched face further constricted itself as he surveyed his options, the trembling second year stood before him in dire need of ‘Professor Snape’s’ services in counteracting the Melonbloom-Nebulenscae’s pollen which was apparently consuming the glass from the greenhouses, or the seventh years whom he had scheduled two hours of silent study.  
  
Regrettably his choice was clear.  
  
And to think, he scowled, he’d pronounced that pollen to be ‘Idiot Safe’ just last week.  
  
“I am required to go and assist in another class, students. However, do not take my absence to suddenly mean that I will stand in any way for any lapse in concentration or equally ill-advised forays into misconduct or other behaviour not befitting 7th year students or,” and at this his entire body seemed to prickle with ill disguised pleasure, “I shall be forced to borrow Mister Filch’s suggestion box in order to find suitable forms of punishment.”  
  
A collective shudder ran through the class, all redoubling their note taking efforts as though the beak nosed Professor were about to stand over them all lesson long.  
  
However, it seemed the Snape-induced good behaviour was too good to last, no matter how hard two students, each alike in their hatred and blame for the other, sat hoping it would.   
  
"Better make those notes good, Potter. Without Malfoy here likely to give you points for cock-sucking, your chance at the House Cup is hopeless… Unless…? Have you tried offering Snape a little 'head'?"  
  
A burst of laughter, drowning out Draco's grinding teeth as he pictured slowly throttling his housemate Zabini.  
  
"Wait," Parkinson chimed in, only too happy to take her turn at the 'Boy Who Gave Her Man Something She Couldn't', "I bet that’s why he's even in this class, I mean, come on… Harry Potter, general dunce and broomstick fixated twat in Advanced Potions? He must be blowing our darling House Master at least every other lesson to keep his marks up!"  
  
_Shut up, Shut up, Shut up, Shut up…_  
  
“Y, You… You take that back!!!!” Astoundingly, Longbottom had found both his voice and his backbone as he shot to his feet, finger pointed threateningly, wand-like towards Pansy. “Harry would NEVER…. He, He…”  
  
The offended party also rose, a smooth, spread hand pressing calmingly against the other, more clumsy Gryffindor's heaving chest. “Nev, it’s fine, it’s nothing, ok? Lets just sit back down and chill a bit, ok?”  
  
Draco shouldn’t have been watching, shouldn’t have looked up the second he heard the brunets low and steady tone, it made it that much harder to drag his gaze back down to the level of the desk before him, blotting it all back out.  
  
It was, as Potter, said, Nothing and he’d be damned if he treated it as anything else.  
  
Pansy’s trill of false laughter broke through his wall of composure, shattering the careful wall of apathy that he and Potter had, coincidentally, both built between them.  
  
“Oh, don’t you worry your poor, bungling, little brain Longbottom,” Pansy cooed, mock sympathetically, “I’m sure your Harry really would never ‘dream’ of indulging in anything so depraved or carnal.” She thinned her lips even more than their normal sliver of meanness in her face as she levelled her fury at its true object. “After all, you’re such a  _good_  boy, right, Potter?”  
  
_Good Boy._  
  
Draco’s head shot up, eyes darting to and unfortunately locking with Potter’s infinitely enraged gaze.   
  
He’d never told her that, how could she know?   
  
She couldn’t know, could only have meant to tease him because they all knew he HAD been doing such carnal and wicked things, the type of thing never associated with the good and sweet Golden Boy of Gryffindor.  
  
Not that it mattered.  
  
Draco’s bones seemed to melt and merge with his very flesh, his entire body as heavy as the Master cauldron Snape had to charm down from the highest shelves, unable to do more than keep his head aloft as Potter’s stool slammed backwards and the seething Gryffindor bore down upon him.  
  
It didn’t matter. He’d not told a soul, he’d not exposed their secrets, he’d never done more than betray everything his family stood for, his beliefs for the pleasure of a little heat and… and what he’d thought was tenderness and twice now, twice he’d been judged and… and WRONGED and… it didn’t matter, let Potter think what he wanted because Draco knew and that was all that mattered.  
  
He’d not told a soul because that was His and Malfoy’s do  _not_  share.  
  
Potter’s hands were in his collar now, close to twisting his tie and throttling him as he hauled Draco to his feet and he felt his vision blur blue for the instant where that frenzied grip was just a touch too tight.  
  
“You. Are. SCUM.” Harry snarled into Draco’s face and something inside, something warm and nice that he’d not even really known was there, splintered and crumbled inside the blond Slytherin as he watched the brunet haul his arm back to strike.  
  
Didn’t matter.  
  
Harry's mouth twisted and his guts churned and seethed within him as he crashed his fist into the Slytherin’s face, letting the fury show on his face as it rolled through him in waves. He welcomed it, it smothered the hurt, quenched it long enough for him to act, to keep the mask in place, yet never doused it completely.  
  
Good Boy. That was  _his_ , goddamn it. He’d earned that, fucking debauched and defiled himself with the want, the need to hear it whispered, praising and reverent in his ear as Malfoy fucked him. He’d expected to be betrayed…. No, he’d TOLD himself to expect to be betrayed but the actuality of it was so much worse and yet he was bearing it, breathing in and out each day amidst the whispers from his classmates and the interchanging sympathetic and horrified glances from all around him but this… this…   
  
… He slammed his fist into the already reeling boy, not caring at the pain, his or Malfoy’s, already drawing back to slam it back into his ribs.  
  
It didn’t make any sense. They’d felt so good, so ‘close’ that last time, all twined together, each as needy as the other, as desperate, as wanting and then Malfoy had betrayed him he’d… well he hadn’t done anything fully public yet but the hate in his gaze when he’d stood sneering at Harry before Smith, it was unlike anything, any hate that Harry'd seen before in those silver eyes. It hurt, he didn’t mind admitting it because he was resigned to his idiocy, had accepted that finding something that seemed worth cherishing with a man you knew to be the enemy was downright moronic. But this hurt So. Much. More.  
  
_Such a Good Boy._  
  
Two blows, both to Malfoy’s stomach and Harry's fist hurt and they were toppling, someone was making squealing, outraged noises... Probably that bitch Parkinson… And then Harry was on top of the Slytherin, the breath leaving them both in a startled, pained burst, feet already hammering against shins, Harry's aching throbbing fists battering repeatedly against Draco’s heaving abdomen.  
  
_That was mine, it was mine you scum, you fucking bastard_ he screamed inside his head but worse than the pain that singed his insides, worse than the near crushing self-hatred for letting the bastard do it ‘to’ him was the fact that it was a lie, it wasn’t his, it hadn’t been the fact that it belonged to him alone but that it was theirs, it was something that really signified the bizarre connection between them.  
  
And the bastard had told that bitch Parkinson….  
  
With another snarl, a deeply animal noise torn from his chest, Harry fisted a claw-like hand into the front of Draco’s shirt, drawing the bloodied face higher once more, pulling back his arm even as he felt hands clutching at him, shrieks echoing in his ears as they tried to tear him off the other boy, when he stopped to actually look into the Slytherin's face.  
  
Draco blinked, slowly. There was blood running into his eyes, Potter must have split his head open in some way but that was fine, it didn’t hurt that much, no more than their fights of old anyway… he just didn’t care anymore. Just as well really because if he ‘did’ still care, not that he ever had of course… But if he did…  
  
Harry swallowed, aware of the fiery pain of Parkinson’s cruelly sharp nails digging into his arms as she tried to pull him off her beloved Draco but he couldn’t move, momentarily stunned by the absence of the person in his grip.  
  
Malfoy’s face was… empty. Eyes blank, dull, the only seeming sign of life the blood now trickling steadily from the cut in his forehead from where Harry's knuckle had struck just a touch too hard. But his eyes… His gaze was empty and suddenly Harry was all too aware that he’d not struck him back, not once. He was letting Harry hit him? It didn’t make any sense and… there.  
  
A shiver shot down the brunet’s spine. Fuck, a bolt of what looked so much like… like hurt and pain and… and… nothing made sense anymore.  
  
Draco stiffened. Potter had stopped, just looked straight through him, no…into him and god, what did he see to make him stop straight like that and stare, what turned him from a raging furious animal into… into…  
  
_Harry… hands at either side of Draco's waist, leaning in, chin resting just above the black band at the top of Draco's trousers, gazing up at him somewhat shyly, flushed as he nuzzled into the blond hair trailing down from the Slytherin's navel…  
_  
Draco shuddered. He wasn’t fucking thinking about it, he wasn’t, he didn’t care how fucking sweet the faithless sod’s mouth looked when he gazed at him like that, all bottomless fucking green eyes and bemusement. It didn’t matter if he could still taste him. Nothing mattered anymore.  
  
Harry found himself borne backward, the unmistakable talons of Pansy sodding Parkinson meshed into his dark locks as one of Malfoy’s lesser lackeys (neither Crabbe nor Goyle had made the necessary grades) gripped his arms brutally hard.  
  
It felt as though Draco’s body had absorbed the chill from the stone walls about him, shivering as his eyes abruptly darted to and held Potter’s.  
  
Potter looked steadily back at him, those damnable eyes looking too deep for Draco’s comfort. What did he see looking at him? Fear? Loathing? Lust? Or just the boy he assumed deliberately ruined their… relationship… thing?  
  
He’d risked everything to touch the inner spark of the Wizarding world’s most brightly blazing star and lost a grand total of nothing… if you didn’t count Potter himself.  
  
He felt his chest tighten and he dropped his eyes.  
  
He wanted Potter. Took him, in every sense, made him his own no matter what common sense (his OR Potter’s) told him and got off Scot-free.  
  
It wasn’t FAIR. He lost out, was ‘ditched’ before he’d had the chance to even… and now, now he was to be hailed as a fucking hero of Slytherin for fucking Potter (fair enough, he was rather smug himself on that score) and probably as a favourite of the Dark Lord himself for having despoiled Dumbledore’s darling.  
  
It was everything a good pureblood Slytherin youth should want.  
  
Should.  
  
He felt the babble and bite of the class go on around him for some time yet, Pansy fortunately remembering to heal his face and banish away the blood before the absent Master swept back in, never hearing the words that swept over and around him as his own gaze focused inwards but it was some time before he felt the weight of Potter’s eyes fall from him.

 

**************

  
Draco trudged, not by choice but from fatigue, the bone-numbing chill of the rain as it beat down on him. His feet were too heavy with mud to be able to take proper steps as he staggered and lurched beneath the weight of the grain bag he struggled to carry.  
  
Pluviallis stones. Seeds that could only be planted in the midst of a violent rainstorm so that they almost dissolved, becoming mud with the earth about them, and it was Draco's delightful duty to carefully sift them over the vast, slick expanse of the Quidditch field, as Dumbledore, in his infinite wisdom, insisted they be laid out across the field, their shielding magic ready to cradle the students unfortunate enough to have already plummeted several hundred feet to the ground.  
  
The Slytherin's teeth scraped audibly together once more.  
  
Dumbledore. Snape. His supposed protectors within the schools biased walls. How he longed to be free of this hypocritical prison, to return to his father and what was right, what was expected…. No, required of him. How good it would feel to embrace his former certainty and purpose.  
  
He dipped a hand into the bag, flinging the contents in a graceful arc about him, watching the almost glaringly white seeds spill out into the night.  
  
His resolve would return in time and by then the emptiness would have dissipated. He knew it, felt it with a kind of desperate belief. Distance… absence from Potter could only bring relief and the rage he so badly craved.  
  
With a shiver that had nothing to do with the rain, he cast the stones about him in the patterns sternly dictated to him, taking precise steps back and forth across the pitch.  
  
He longed for anger, righteous fury and indignation, anything but the timorous hurt lingering in his belly, chilling into heavy pebbles of dejection whenever the Gryffindor lay hand or eyes upon him. Pansy had healed the bruises and abrasions from their lesson together earlier that day, but the pain of the actual encounter lingered.  
  
He hated how the Gryffindor looked through him, like wasn't there or worse, never had been.  
  
After all, if none of it mattered, if nothing Draco had done or felt made the slightest difference to his fate then… perhaps it had never happened at all, just a dream spun by an idle longing concealed deep in the shadows of his mind, snatched free, disintegrating in the light of day as he again resumed his role in life.  
  
Draco Malfoy: Head Boy. Heir to Malfoy Senior. Would be follower of the Dark Lord.  
  
And nothing more.  
  
He stopped, letting the rain beat down on him, dragging his shoulders down in what felt so close to defeat he couldn't breathe… but then, perhaps he was drowning, stood, face thrown back against the sky, gasping and cold beneath the deluge.  
  
Nothing more.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing Malfoy?"  
  
Draco dropped the bag of seeds, the silky white pips spilling and settling into the mud before he could do more than jerk in reaction.  
  
"I was sowing the Pluviallis that Snape had so generously bestowed upon me as my nights duties, Potter, but now, thanks to you, its fucking ruined."  
  
Like everything else.  
  
Draco turned his eyes upward from the lost seeds, his gaze flickering over Potter's stance, bristling in the chilled wet air as he noted the Gryffindor's apparent irritation.  
  
Why the fuck was he pissed off? It was him who'd sodding interrupted Draco's banal chores, him who'd fucked it all up and HE was the one stood there looking all infuriated and put out?   
  
FUCK that.  
  
With an odd relief and fervent delight at the return of his ire, now coursing through his veins, Draco turned to fully face the brunet.  
  
"You hear me, Potter? I said You. Ruined. It."  
  
“I heard you,” the Gryffindor spat, folding his arms over his chest, “And I’ve not ruined a damn thing you prick, Snape told me you were messing about with some sort of nocturnal rain-loving pips or something, I just wondered what the fuck you were doing stood there face up, trying to drown yourself or something?”  
  
Draco let his lip peel back over his teeth in derision. “How sweet, Potter, I had no idea you gave even the smallest shit.”  
  
A snort, the best a Gryffindor could offer by way of witty retort, it seemed.  
  
“Oh very good, Potty, perhaps given enough time you’ll learn to respond in actual words versus noises consisting of a single syllable. Now, if you’d be so good as to tell me what it is you want so you can fuck directly back off once more…?”  
  
“I don’t want anything from you, you egocentric twat, I ran into Snape and as he went rather out of his way to berate me about today’s little incident as he termed it then repeatedly spat your current location in my face I rather thought I was supposed to come seek you out for some reason.”  
  
Draco snorted before hastily tacking on a rejoinder lest he be judged by his prior scathing remark. “Doubtless he hoped to anger you, y’know, the usual mistreatment of Hogwarts poor precious little darling so that he once more storms out to set the world to rights before cowering behind good ol’ Dumbledore’s petticoats like a dainty little girl.”  
  
He watched with a flicker of concealed glee as the Gryffindor visibly bit back his anger, instead clearing his throat and doubling the ferocity of his glare before an alarmingly spiteful glint sparkled in the green eyes.  
  
“Dainty little Girl, Malfoy?” He purred and the Slytherin fought down a frisson of something other than unease at the sound, “You didn’t seem to think so when my prick was in your mouth.”  
  
“Got your legs open, didn’t it?” _Shit, didn’t mean to say that_.  
  
Harry chuckled, aware of just how mean the sound was as it bubbled past his sneer. “If you recall, Malfoy, my legs, as you so charmingly put it, had been rather forcibly opened before you decided you liked swallowing my come.”  
  
Acid lashed through the blond, bitterness churning in his belly. “Oh, forced is it now? Yeah, ok so it was rough but you fucking loved it, you…” He sneered anew, letting his curled lip thoroughly mock the paltry version the Gryffindor was sporting. “… You know what? Whatever. You need to tell people it was Rape? Fine. I don’t give a shit, just don’t come bitching to me when I’m trying to do my fucking detention with your little lies because you can’t handle people knowing you’re a fucking fag.”  
  
The last of the white seeds crunched before they could be absorbed fully into the earth, splintering beneath the Gryffindor’s feet as Potter stepped into his body space, face an immobile mask as Draco found himself staring through the dripping, speckled glasses.   
  
“I think I just figured it out. I think Snape decided that, having had to spend yet another day wondering why I ‘ever’ let you touch me, perhaps it might cheer me up to come and see you, out here, reduced to nothing more than feeble jibes and debasing chores because you know what happened between us, just like I do, and no amount of stupid petty sidekicks spitting insults will affect that so… yeah. I think it was worth the trip out here ‘just’ to remind myself just how pathetic you truly are.”  
  
Pathetic.  
  
Draco was really starting to hate that word.  
  
“Pathetic, Potter? At least I’m not some affection starved little orphan boy who likes having hard cocks shoved up his arse.”  
  
Harry rolled his eyes, shrewdly ignoring the dig about his family. “Oh yes, how could I forget? You only sucked me off and stuck your dick and digits in me – that makes you as straight as Merlin’s wand.”  
  
It was bullshit and they both knew it, yet Draco couldn’t help the words that tumbled from his smirking lips.  
  
“That’s right Potter, making me the real man and you the queer, pathetic little fag just dying for me to fuck you again.”  
  
He needed to shut up. Why couldn’t he just bite his tongue and walk away, leave the doubting little shit to think about what he’d lost… not that he could have had him.  
  
“Yeah.” Harry said quietly, water plastering his hair to his forehead in thick black tufts, as he stared, unblinking at the Slytherin. “Yeah you’re right, I’ll never be a man 'til I fuck you… right Malfoy?”  
  
Draco took a casual step backwards, unsettled by the unwavering focus of those green eyes upon him. “Looks like you’ll never be a man then, Potter, because that’s never going to happen.”  
  
What was it Snape had said to him once? - _Never use absolutes with Gryffindor’s, it only encourages them.  
_  
“Never?” Potter purred again and that same frisson chased itself down Draco’s spine once more.  
  
“Never. Like Snape ‘never’ washes his hair and Longbottom ‘never’ fails to blow at least one cauldron up per potions lesson. The usual meaning… which means back the fuck OFF Potter!”  
  
Harry was close again, too close, Draco could nearly taste his breath.  
  
“Never…. Like how you would never touch me without an agenda, how you’d never willingly give me pleasure without intending me harm? That about right?”  
  
Firm hands now gripped Draco’s squirming upper arms and something akin to panic made itself felt in Draco’s chest.  
  
“Never, as in if you don’t let go of me right fucking now then they’ll never be able to reattach your oh so precious Potter family jewels.”  
  
He wished he had his wand, loathing his House Master for having confiscated it at the start of the nights detention, but still he twisted his hands into Potter’s shirtfront, unable to not drag the other boy close to continually snarl into his face.  
  
“Never,” Potter continued in that sickeningly steady tone, “like you’d have never let me fuck you, Right?”  
  
“Right.” Draco spat and tried to wrench himself free, only to find one hand locked tightly at the base of his skull.  
  
“Wrong.” Harry grated, the calm mask abruptly shattering into what looked so much like hate that Draco gasped, his mouth already open then as the brunet yanked him forward, noses slamming past each other as the Gryffindor thrust his tongue deep into Draco’s mouth.  
  
There, there was that flavour he’d told himself he didn’t crave, and it had absolutely nothing to do with how much his mouth watered at the taste that he bit down on Potter’s tongue, holding it in his mouth for just an aching second before clamping down too hard, pushing the brunet away as hard as he could.  
  
“Don’t you fucking touch me Potter, don’t you DARE fucking touch me!” He slapped out, ineffectually, trying to knock the Gryffindor’s mouth off course as the raging brunet slammed his head back down, hard, actually knocking the breath from Draco’s lungs as their combined efforts to both capture and escape resulted in a backwards topple to the ground, Harry's mouth sealing over the blond’s even as they fell into the mud.  
  
Draco had a hand knotted in the dripping black locks as the mud squelched and splattered all about them, yanking cruelly even as Potter’s strong white teeth nipped and demanded entry as they tore into the already plump and sore flesh of Draco’s lips.  
  
He bucked his hips up hard against the Gryffindor, not to prolong their bodies contact but to unseat the brunet, show him his weight was nothing to Draco’s strength of will. He would not be cowed by a kiss, another insignificant show of want. The needs, the very weaknesses of his mortal form would not sway him. He would and could not place his faith and loyalty in someone who had so little faith and loyalty for him in return. Why would Potter ever even think to ask him, want him to take his side when he believed it could never be?  
  
Potter deserved to die. For his lack of faith, his weakness. For his ability to touch and taste and need someone he believed was capable of betraying him, rejoicing in his demise.  
  
And maybe Draco could. The capacity for such darkness was in everyone, Potter’s despised Pettigrew a superb example, but Potter never waited to plumb the depths of Draco’s potential. Given no choice, offered no alternative what other route had he been expected to take? So Draco had thought, perhaps, for just the span of the barest moment, that he could defy everything he knew, everything he was meant to hold dear and everyone he did hold dear. So what?  
  
He’d tried to forge a new path, one surprisingly stumbled upon amidst forced pleasure and stolen power but had stayed to tread it in seeming… no. It didn’t matter now.  
  
Potter had made his choice for him and now he would wait and see him dead. See him suffer, twisting in agony before his father’s master. Screaming, stretching out the hands that had stroked and touched Draco’s body upon seeing his face in the crowd gathered at his execution, calling his name…  
  
With a harsh cry Draco burst upwards, legs and arms and spine arcing up from the ground, trying to bind themselves to Potter, to wrap themselves about his frame and just hold on, bound to his very skin and make time stop, just there and then, like this… always like this.  
  
Potter, seeming to sense his desperation, ground down harder, bracing his body over Draco’s, hips and chest and tongue all moving as one, claiming Draco past the boundaries of clothes and permission as he drank down the Slytherin's wounded cries, swallowing the tears and rain eagerly as he lapped them from Draco’s skin.  
  
He knew he should push the brunet away, knew he should spurn him now as punishment for his betrayal but… but just once more, one last time…  
  
One. Last. Time.   
  
He shuddered and gasped, akin to climax but so much worse… the bone jarring wracks of epiphany.  
  
His last chance, one last chance to be with Potter… a last chance with Potter?  
  
And Snape sent him, that tiny quavering voice within whispered. Snape sent him to you.   
  
Was this penance then, for Snape’s misdeeds? For his breaking faith with his supposed protégé? One last quick fuck with the Boy Wonder before trotting on his merry way to live up to their great expectations of his amoral fate?  
  
He’d have sneered were his mouth not quite so occupied.  
  
Snape, the eternally austere, giving his failed apprentice the opportunity to get back into Harry Potter’s pants? Unlikely, in the extreme.  
  
But… what if it wasn’t that… what if…  
  
What if this Draco’s last chance to make it right?  
  
He shivered, body quickly wracked with a sort of pain that stiffened his limbs and chilled his blood.  
  
No, it was too late to make anything right now, his course had already been set, long before he'd even set eyes on the Boy Who Lived.  
  
Maybe it was nothing more than this. Heart pounding, blood thawing, utterly consuming sex, the sort of thing he could look back on in years and know that no matter how many people he'd fucked, everything that had ever mattered, everything that had set the example for what passion should feel like, would be defined by this brief period of… of… perfection. Perfection found in Potter's arms.  
  
He shivered again and dragged his mouth back from the Gryffindor's, hearing his gasps whipped away into the cold night air.  
  
"Fuck Me." He demanded hoarsely, relishing the surprise on Potter's face even as an inner voice screamed when the words passed his lips. He steeled himself, shutting the little wailing, whining voice away. If this was all he'd ever have, ever know then damned if he wasn't going to know it all.  
  
"What happened to your not being Gay?" Draco would have been amused at Harry's wince, the brunet obviously wishing the words back inside his head, had he not been slightly concerned by that himself.  
  
Fuck it, he thought savagely, jerking upwards to press a viciously harsh kiss to Potter's parted lips. He didn't care anymore.   
  
"Potter," He snarled, "You can continue to ask pointlessly inane questions or you can shut up and fuck me… now, which is it, and here's a hint, I suggest you choose fucking me because you'll NEVER have this chance again!"  
  
The Gryffindor's lips thinned and Draco's breath caught at just how different the brunet looked when truly angered, yelping as he found himself hauled upwards by his throat.  
  
"Fine." Harry spat, wrenching his glasses from his face as the rain droplets began to totally obscure his vision. "But not here, I'm not fucking you out in the mud and rain just so you can tell yourself later that I attacked you… I'm not dirtying or sullying you, Malfoy," he sneered, fingers still tight on the soft skin of his neck as Draco gulped, transfixed by the heat in the brunet's naked gaze. "I'm just giving you exactly what you want and if that happens to be me fucking you so hard that you can't even draw breath to scream then So. Be. It!"  
  
He spun on his heel, dragging the blond behind him, Draco's own feet slipping in the mud as they made for the tiny pinpoint of light emanating from the tiny nearby seed-shed, the enchanted lantern sat in the minuscule window flickering wildly as though beckoning the drenched boys closer.  
  
"In." Harry barked, yanking the door open against the now considerable push of the wind and shoving Draco inside, each blinking at the sudden shift in light and temperature.  
  
The shed, for it was really no more than that despite its many protective wards and careful placement, was warm and dimly lit, the lantern having been left for Draco so that he might not stumble and break his neck in the planting of his precious Pluviallis. Draco grimaced vaguely before pushing his detention to the back of his mind.   
  
Harry Potter was about to fuck him - Detention was the least of his troubles.  
  
Harry pulled the door closed behind them, spelling it shut with a distracted mutter, his blurry eyes taking in their surroundings as best he could.  
  
The walls were lined with stacked, tightly woven cheesecloth sacks, each full of grain of varied shapes and sizes, the scent of which had flavoured the air with an odd musty, almost bread-like smell. It was inviting, sort of, and warm and dry and that was really all that mattered, Harry reasoned, squinting to attempt to approximate the size of the space itself.  
  
The sacks were many, and ridiculously weighty, he'd seen Hagrid stagger under the weight of merely four on occasion, and they were stacked as much as twelve high in places, taller than either boys shoulders. He bit his lip thoughtfully, watching Malfoy push the lank wet hair from his face, desire stirring in his belly at the unconscious animal grace possessed by the Slytherin.  
  
The shed couldn't be more than 10 foot in either direction, the sacks taking up much of that precious space leaving only the floor open and empty.  
  
He glanced down, solid wood, firmly sealed against drafts and grain loving insects gleaming back up at him.  
  
The floor it was then.  
  
Jerking his glasses back on, Harry spied a few empty sacks laid out atop the others, seizing and then flinging them to the ground carelessly, loving how Draco jerked and started in reaction to both his actions and the sudden fiercer lash of rain against the lone window.  
  
"On the floor." He ordered quietly.  
  
Something prickled, interested, beneath Draco's skin, but he buried it beneath an all too easy sneer.  
  
"You get to fuck me, Potter. That does not make you the Lord and Master so quit it with the heavy-handed directions, got it?"   
  
The smug grin that he had intended to follow these smartly delivered words was abruptly halted, then strangled as the Gryffindor's weight bore him swiftly backwards, each grunting as their combined weight struck the rigidly packed sacks behind him.  
  
"I don't think you heard me," Harry snarled, blushing at his own ferocity, "I said to get down on the floor and if you want this…" he bit none too gently into the tender flesh of Draco's earlobe, continuing huskily, "And I think you do… then you had best do as I say, or I'll walk straight out of here and you'll have to ask some other fool to fuck you."  
  
He stepped back, not able to meet Draco's eyes as the blond kept them trained upon the ground, trembling with his own fury and need before stepping forward, dipping as he began to lower himself to his knees.  
  
"Stop."  
  
Draco jerked in response, halfway to the floor, scowling up at Harry with real venom at the Gryffindor’s seemingly casual abuse of his situation.  
  
"Umm… take, take off your robes and shirt first."  
  
Draco wanted to laugh, struck by the sudden absurdity of it all. Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived To Have Everything On a Platter was nervous about asking for what he wanted.  
  
He bit his lip to hold back the smile, carefully shouldering out of his clothes, fingers tripping lightly over the fastenings as he quickly reviewed Potters behaviour.   
  
The temper, well that was all his own, the Gryffindor's anger having been responsible for at least two of Draco's worst injuries during his time at the school.  
  
But the orders? The commanding nature? That was pure Malfoy.  
  
He ducked his head as his clothes fell from him, leaving him clad, kneeling upright, in just his trousers and shoes, chest gleaming damply in the lanterns light, eyes closed against the surge of amusement and… and lust as he realised that Potter was emulating him.  
  
He had a sudden flash of Potter dressing up in Daddy's shoes as a child, stumbling around in his usual clumsy manner before the amusement trickled away, leaving a hard lump of coldness in his belly. Potter's parents were dead and he'd probably not had the chance to play at being Daddy because as a toddler he was destroying the corporeal form of certain Dark Lords.  
  
He swallowed. Now was not the time to be dwelling on such things, it was time for… ah yes.  
  
He lifted his head slowly, catching Potter's eyes as they made long, gloriously uninhibited admiring sweeps of his body and letting his gilt lashes sweep down once, then twice in seemingly docile invitation. Before he'd had time to let his lashes glide upwards once more, Potter was on his knees across from him.  
  
Touch Me.  
  
He didn't think he'd said it but Harry's hand lifted, as though manoeuvred by strings, to trace gentle fingertips over the slightly darker skin at Draco's throat, caressing the marks he'd unintentionally made before letting his hands drift lower, pausing reverently over clavicle and chilled, peaked nipple.  
  
"Like what you see?" Draco's voice wasn't half as steady as he would have liked but it sufficed, summoning a faint blush over Potter's cheeks and down over his throat, beneath his still buttoned shirt, the brunet nodding jerkily as he slid first one knee, then the other closer, reducing the space between them.  
  
"Yeah… yeah I," he cleared his throat, "I… I'd…" And then he kissed Draco.  
  
Not their usual clash of teeth and tongues and crossed metaphorical swords but a soft, toe-curlingly tentative press of lips on lips and Draco felt the world lurch beneath him.  
  
He'd planned on keeping his hands at his sides, planned on waiting for Potter to try and command him once more but somehow the compulsion to sink his hands into the wet black locks and loop his arms about those shoulders was just too strong to be denied.  
  
With a low moan Draco parted his lips and bound himself to the still woefully clad form of his supposed nemesis and clung, eagerly twining his tongue about Potter's as it darted enthusiastically into his mouth, chased by the brunets own grunt of pleasure.  
  
Two hard, warm palms cupped and squeezed his buttocks and he growled softly, yanking his hands down to start furiously scrabbling at the fastenings of Harry's robes and shirt.  
  
"Bit fucking unequal here Potter," he spat with a fury that was caused solely from not being able to reach the brunets skin, "So like a Gryffindor, gets everything he wants without even a smidge of effort and leaves everyone else twisting in the wind!"  
  
"Malfoy…" Harry burst out, "Shut Up." He smoothly drew his wand then, lifting a brow in mocking inquiry towards the blond, smirked and cast, encompassing them both with a twirl of his wrist. " _Abrogo Vestis_."  
  
Harry's robes, shirt, trousers, underwear and even shoes seemed to melt away down his body to reform in a heap behind him, Draco's trousers and shoes following, leaving them each naked and, despite their frequent prior intimacies, somehow dreadfully exposed.  
  
He blinked, eyes attempting to focus, smirking vaguely. "Copycat." He chided breathlessly.  
  
Draco swallowed, suddenly all too aware of his hands resting on Potter's naked hips, hips he'd bruised with his fingers, pressing down hard with every thrust inside the brunet's body, the Gryffindor's wand still drawn and pointed vaguely toward him, sending a slight chill through the blond boys blood.  
  
"Last chance Malfoy." Potter whispered and Draco stiffened in his grasp.  
  
"What?" His eyes were wild and his voice rivalled that of a first year girl's.  
  
"Last chance… I mean, you asked me to do this… if you don't want it, tell me, I… I won't force you."  
  
Draco closed his eyes. Merlin save him from the sincerity of bloody Gryffindor’s.  
  
A twist in his gut stabbed at him. Well, sincere for as long as they think you're worth it, he amended.  
  
"Potter, I said Fuck Me and I meant it so….." He gestured impatiently at his body, "Get with the fucking."  
  
Harry's eyes lowered to Draco's rather less than enthusiastic member and lifted an eyebrow.  
  
"Love to, Malfoy… honestly I would but…?"  
  
Draco huffed, attempting to fight off his blush before it began and scowling ferociously.  
  
"Sorry Potter, I guess 'Little Draco' here just doesn't like you as much as he used to…"  
  
"Because of what happened with Smith?"  
  
The sound of the slap echoed in the tiny shed, even before the pain started in his palm and Draco found himself staring in absolute shock as his handprint began forming on Potter's face. Potter however, despite his initial grimace of pain, appeared almost… Pleased?  
  
"I knew it." He said softly. "I knew there was something more going on"  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about." Draco sneered as best someone could when appalled by their own actions and trying to backtrack as fast as possible.  
  
"Why'd you do it?"  
  
"Do what?" Harry had an iron grip about both of his wrists now but Draco was damned if he'd demean himself by struggling.  
  
"Say those things. Act that way. You didn't mean any of it."  
  
"Ohh, I meant every word of it Potter," Draco seethed, face alight with spite and fury, "One look at your face was all I needed to know. You wanted the Junior Death Eater and that’s just what you got… and if I'd known you'd revert to wanting to be a sanctimonious little prick over wanting the hottest damn sex you'll ever know so fast I'd have made sure there _were_ photographers in the fucking bushes!!"  
  
Harry exhaled slowly through his nose. "So… all that, before, that was just to… to what? Punish me?"  
  
Draco leant in slowly, teeth bared. "Yes, Potter. For being fool enough to forget who I am… who I'm going to be… for still wanting this when every student in the school is telling you, every teacher is telling you to stay the fuck away from me…"  
  
"…and since when have I ever done what I'm told, Malfoy? You may think I'm the fucking Golden Boy but your mentor, your beloved House Master despises me because of my disregard for the rules, for what I'm meant to do and you thought… "  
  
He broke off, shaking his head roughly.   
  
"Fuck it, I don't care what you thought! You want me to fuck you? Fine!"  
  
He tackled him then, knocking the Slytherin on his back with a roar of fury reminiscent of his House Mascot.  
  
"Yesss…." Draco snarled back, bucking his body upwards, "Show me how fucking imperfect you are Potter because I really hadn't gathered from watching you writhing on my cock like a fucking WHORE!"  
  
Their mouths met, hard, and each slammed their tongues past the others lips with a good deal more force than was necessary and Harry's hand shoved roughly downward to seize Draco by the soft skin behind his knee, yanking upwards so that the blond was forced to sprawl backwards, his leg pulled unceremoniously from beneath him so that he squawked and thrashed at the rough treatment.  
  
"Like a whore, am I?" Harry panted, tearing his mouth free and smiling with something a little too close to malevolence as he pushed the slightly alarmed Slytherin's knee high up against his chest, "We'll see which one of us is the fucking whore…  _LUBRICUS_! "  
  
He dropped his wand as his fingers coated themselves, waving them mockingly at the still gasping Slytherin, holding the blond's thighs apart with his other hand. "See, Professor Malfoy? I can be taught."  
  
Whatever response Draco might have been about to make was swallowed by his howl of pain as the Gryffindor roughly thrust two fingers into his hole.  
  
"FUCK!" He screeched, wanting to thrash and push Potter away but too scared to move from where he'd frozen at the pain, his already only half-hard dick deflating at a rate of knots.  
  
God, oh god had he done this to Potter? Had it hurt this much? Had he been this rough? How the HELL could being fucked feel good if this hurt so much? It burned, god it burned and he could feel himself spasming around and against the intrusion and… fuck... Potter was moving his fingers, just pushing and pulling them gently back and forth but they might as well have been logs for all Draco cared. Potter's fingers were HUGE and they hurt and he wanted to stop and he wanted to scream and he couldn't do ANY of it because Potter's mouth was settling over his once more and he was whispering things, tiny words, little noises that Draco could just make out through the pain.  
  
"Please…" He whimpered, too distracted by the frenzied ache in his anus to care about his begging the brunet, "Potter... please… it hurts… stop… stop…"  
  
And then Harry moved his fingers, only slightly, pressed them upwards it seemed and suddenly, alongside the pain there was a jolt of… not pleasure, it hurt too much for pleasure but…. _Uhh_ … Draco's breath hitched. There it was again.  
  
"Sshh," Harry almost crooned, biting tenderly at the soft plump flesh of Draco's lower lip. "It just takes a bit is all… don't you remember?"  
  
Draco grunted as the Gryffindor rotated his fingers slightly, stretching, smearing the thick goo on his hand around the insides a little more, letting himself be distracted by the brunets tongue as it laved and worshipped his pulse point.  
  
"You didn't even give me lube," Harry whispered, teeth leaving all sorts of interesting marks over the pale column of Draco's throat, "You just stuck your fingers in my face and made me suck them." He stabbed quickly, roughly against the blond's prostate and smiled when the blond yelped and arched his spine in protest. "Then you shoved them in me. Remember?"  
  
"I… I remember." Draco stuttered and snarled, still debating simply pushing the other boy away and making a break for it. But then, the pain had lessened, oh it was still there, but now it was a throb, a low, heavy ache, only just out of time with the bolts of the not-pleasure as it raced through him at Potter's bidding.  
  
"Do you remember doing  _this_ …?" The Gryffindor purred, pulling back to smoothly lean down, face in full view between the blond's sprawled and wantonly spread thighs as he blushed, cheeks burning with his newfound purpose, and carefully licked a stripe of heat over Draco's spasming hole.  
  
Draco couldn't breathe. There was hot, wet pressure repeatedly lapping itself back and forth over the admitted soreness of his arsehole as Potter tortured him with his fingers and as though that weren't enough to still the air within his lungs… he could actually see Potter doing it!  
  
He swallowed, hard, straining for oxygen as he watched that pink tongue swirling and slurping in the hollow beneath his balls, felt the cold hard edge of those damn spectacles press against his thighs and sac with every enthusiastic altered angle 'til Draco fairly vibrated from the stimulation, screwing his eyes shut with a whimper as the image became too much.  
  
"God…" Potter whispered, his oddly reverent tone gusting gently over the blond's twitching and exposed muscle, Draco's lids sliding back upwards to find the Gryffindor’s own gaze locked headily on the now darkening rigidity of his cock, small pearls of clear liquid already glistening at the tip.   
  
"Not so 'Little' Draco…" The Gryffindor said, oddly amused before dipping to lick upwards from his stil pumping fingers, over the hot, tightening skin of Draco's balls and then eagerly up the pulsing length, pause to kiss messily, almost thankfully at the head.  
  
Draco bit his lip.  
  
Potter's mouth on his cock, Potter's fingers roughly fucking and stretching his hole.  
  
It was good… so wrong… but so good.  
  
"Three." He croaked against his better judgement, voice quaking in his desperation to not lose himself before they even made it to the main event, sliding the hands previously clenched at his sides into that thick mass of hair once more, dragging Potter's face to his. "I put three in you next."  
  
Harry's eyebrows drew together briefly but Draco bit him, hard, on his lower lip, drinking in his gasp and mocking him even as they touched tongues again. "I said three… _AAHhhhhhhh_ …"  
  
The burst of pain was back but this time he writhed and let himself sob against the brunets lips, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes only to be speedily lapped up by an eager Gryffindor tongue, tasting himself as Harry kissed him roughly, twisting the hand that now forced three digits inside him 'til they struck that bundle of nerves again, forcing the Slytherin to freeze once more.  
  
"Oh god…" Draco gasped, unable to hold back the now continuous tears that raced down his cheeks, thrashing between firm thrusts of the Gryffindor’s hand and quaking somewhere between pleasure and pain before shrieking in horror when the supposed hero pulled all three free and replaced them with… nothing.  
  
"POTTER!" He yelped at the abrupt loss, ony to near bite his tongue off as he watched the Gryffindor kneel up, wordlessly smoothing the slick, sticky precum oozing from his own tip down and over his length.  
  
Harry sat back, the one hand still braced behind Draco's stiffening knee, the other teasing hand resting at the base of his cock as it pointed demandingly towards its prize.  
  
"Potter…" Draco whined, aware that he was pouting and not giving a single shit about it, wriggling slightly so that the green eyes were drawn to his own eager bobbing, rigid cock. "What're you waiting for?" The blond continued, uneasy at the Gryffindor’s continued silence and inactivity. "You've got permission, fuck me already."  
  
Harry swallowed.  
  
Draco lay spread out before him, one long firm white thigh hitched high against his chest so that he could gaze down upon the darkly flushed cock beating steadily against his belly, unable to look at the spread pink hole he'd just pulled his fingers from, so dearly did he just want to shove his entire hand inside.  
  
He trembled. The noises Malfoy made when he hit that tiny bump… _Merlin_ …  
  
"I..." he swallowed, throat all too dry suddenly, "I don't want to rush this Malfoy."  
  
And before the Slytherin could object (and he was clearly going to) Harry dipped his head to first bite at one pink nipple, eliciting a strangled gasp of half fury, half delight, before continuing down to quickly take that stickily gleaming cockhead in his mouth and then… oh gods… deep into his throat.  
  
"Potter… Potter, I… what're you… Gods… I… NO! Potter STOP!" Draco screeched, startling them both so much the Gryffindor shot so far backwards that his back hit the sacks behind him, seeming acres of empty space now between them.  
  
"I… I don't want to…" Draco started before cutting himself off hurriedly, blushing wildly. It couldn't get worse. He'd not thought this through, what it actually meant to want to do this. It… it meant it was somehow important. It… mattered.  
  
"You don't want to?" Potter's voice was so deliciously distressed that Draco might have been pleased had he not been so affected previously by his statement that he could never rape him.  
  
"I don't want to do that. I don't want to come that way. I want…" He swallowed briskly, concealing weaknesses was meant to be the Malfoy forte. "I want to come with you inside me… fucking me."  
  
He moved upright, onto his knees and then, noting Potter's trembling and flushed form sat back against the stacked bags of grain, he smiled a perfectly feline spread of teeth and intent, before crawling towards the stunned boy with carefully exaggerated movements.  
  
"Did you hear me Potter?" I said I wanted your cock inside me when I come."  
  
"Mmhmm."  
  
"That means I want you to… I _need_ you to fuck me."  
  
"Yeah…"  
  
Draco was in front of Potter now, lifting a hand to rest against the slightly scratchy surface of the sacking behind the brunets shoulders, bracing himself as he moved to sit astride the Gryffindor’s lap.  
  
"Harry…" he whispered, tilting his head down to press his forehead to Harry's, beginning to tremble in earnest as he felt the Gryffindor’s arms link themselves tightly about his hips and ribcage. "…Please?"  
  
And just like that Harry broke past his stumbling block.  
  
With a near howl of desperation he thrust away from the sacks and had his arms tighter than steel about the taller boy as they crashed back against the floor.  
  
"Going to fuck you," he muttered wildly, scrabbling wildly for his wand as he sprawled atop Draco once more, distracted by the Slytherin's long legs lifting high and clenching about his waist, "Going to fuck you so hard."  
  
Draco was lost.  
  
Perhaps he'd been lost longer than this, longer than he knew but he felt it now, in every pore, every cell of his being.  
  
Who he'd been before was so close to being gone for good and he was there, ready to be banished, obliterated by the touch of Harry Potter inside him and he knew he should have been worried, upset… something.  
  
But he wasn't. He embraced it with the sense of the inevitable, find himself smiling dazzlingly up into those damnable green eyes as Harry cast and re-slicked his throbbing cock with lubrication.  
  
"Yessss…" He hissed, pulling back slightly to stretch a long, lean limb yet further, pushing his right leg up and over Harry's shoulder and actually 'feeling how the position spread him wider. "Fuck me Harry… fuck me so hard I'll only know your name… make me scream it…"  
  
Draco wet his lips, watching I unabashed delight as the Gryffindor visibly shuddered, tightening his grip at the base of his purpling prick and just stilling himself, holding himself steady as he caught his breath and trembled before shooting the blond a reproving look.  
  
"If you want fucked you'd best shut up or this'll be over before it begins." He confessed blushing with what seemed to be the very last of his blood, shyly laying his weight back over the prone Slytherin and sighing contentedly as Draco tightened every limb about him.  
  
"Oh I want fucked," He assured him with what felt his first genuine smile since… since he'd last felt like his in Potter's arms. He swallowed the sudden panic that this was the last, the very last time that he'd ever feel this way, ever know such contentment or need… or Potter's clear green eyes worshipping every inch of him.  
  
He frowned.  
  
"Glasses off." He muttered before reaching up to snatch them off Potter's face and casting them haphazardly onto the pile of their discarded robes, snorting as he noted the Gryffindor’s appalled expression. "Oh don't start, you can see me just fine from here… and.. " he blushed, "… and I can see you properly now."  
  
Harry nodded slowly and, before he could think better of it, darted down to press a ridiculously gently kiss to Draco's lips and the Slytherin fought down the urge to wail and scream once more.  
  
Last chance, so fucking take it.  
  
"Potter…" He whispered, ready to give the order once more before stilling as felt something hot, hard and wet nudge between his spread cheeks.  
  
"I know," Harry murmured back soothingly and suddenly, smoothly, pressing in a few inches and gasping in unison with the Slytherin. "I know."  
  
_Oh God._  
  
He was barely inside him but all Draco could feel was the few inches of rigidly pulsing flesh within his body and he moaned, long and dreadfully wanton as he felt his body give and yet another few slick inches slide home.  
  
God. God. God. How could Potter stand it? How had he not simply shaken apart under the force of such feelings? Maybe he didn't feel it like this… maybe it didn't feel quite so close to being conquered to him, maybe it wasn't more important than breathing, maybe…  
  
Draco howled as Harry abruptly pushed the whole way in, only closing the gap by the merest inch or so but to Draco it was the difference between being burned by the hot flame of pleasure lingering in his belly or being utterly fucking consumed.  
  
"I… I… I'm hurting you…" The Gryffindor panted, horror etched into every word and Draco arched his spine, swearing he felt each bone shatter then melt into a thousand blazing embers in his bloodstream, burning him alive from the inside out.  
  
"Yessssss…" He agreed, rocking his hips hard against the brunet and letting the pain hiss out through his teeth, "Yessss… Don't stop… please don't stop…"  
  
With an almost sob, a note of desperation so akin to the noises echoing inside Draco's skull, Harry rammed his hips forward, then back, jabbing into the blond with near violent thrusts, slamming their bodies back and forth against the unforgiving ground.  
  
"Hhhhuuhh..." Draco gasped ecstatically, feeling the air leave him on the force of the thrust, Harry's own pleasure being gasped out against the softness of his rain and sweat-slicked hair, his body jerking several times in reaction as he heard the sound, felt it reverberate through him with the sweet honeyed weight of a much treasured memory.  
  
_That’s the noise Harry makes when I fuck him_  he whispered in his head before flinging back his head, crying out both against the pain of cracking his head against the floor and the sudden hideousness of Potter's length leaving him.  
  
" _No, no, no, no_ …" he sobbed and begged and Harry pulled his arms up higher, binding them so tightly about the blond that his weight was now supported by the two strong forearms under his back and… oh god… and the cock now pushing back, faster, smoother, into his body, Draco's legs wrapping about him so hard he thought he might have lifted free of gravity.  
  
"It's ok, it's ok Draco, " Harry whispered and the Slytherin could have sobbed at the sound of his name being gasped reverently on those lips again, thrashing against the unimaginable sensations of being driven into over and over, re-impaling himself with every buck and writhe within the Gryffindor’s arms. "It's ok that's it, let go, I've got you…. Good boy…  _Good Boy_."  
  
_Good Boy_ , his brain whispered. Oh  _gods_ …  
  
"Harder," he sobbed, feeling the pain flash through him as the brunet complied, setting his teeth against Harry's throat and just whimpering until the pain bloomed into that same jerking, insistent pleasure that now assaulted him with every stroke inward into his body. "Oh god Harry…  _harder_!"  
  
Those sound (the sounds) were breaking free from him every breath now and he could hear Potter whispering to him between moans but he could only make a few words out here and there so lost was he and he could feel the tears on his face again and gods that was Harry fucking Potter kissing them from his skin, Harry Potter claiming him so that no-one else ever could, Harry Potter.. Harry… all that he'd ever sodding wanted.  
  
"Harry please!" He sobbed wildly, hands scrabbling from about his ribs up into his hair and back again, struggling wildly for purchase against the thrusting, sweat slippery boy "Please…  _gods… please_ … Kiss me?"  
  
And gods... Then it was perfect.  
  
As Draco's body began to shake apart, Harry's tongue pushed past his lips and into his mouth, claiming the last breath from his body, his straining, weeping cock sliding between their taut, sticky stomachs as Harry thrust in hard then harder and Draco would have screamed only he rather suspected he was dying.  
  
Still with the tiniest amount of oxygen left in his lungs, he cried out into Harry's mouth, their desperate, needy kiss smothering Harry's name on Draco's tongue, thick white seed erupting up over his belly to splatter, gloriously messy between their bodies as Harry let out his own hoarse cry, spilling helplessly hard and deep in Draco's hole.  
  
Slowly, Draco's hands released their hold, nails slipping from the indents left in Harry's skin, legs falling bonelessly back to crash against the Slytherin's own body as gravity reclaimed them both, Harry now a dead-weight pressing down upon the blond, preventing breath and the slow return to consciousness. Still, if Draco had to slowly asphyxiate then this was the way he'd choose to go about it and he couldn't recall any regrets with his one remaining functional brain cell.  
  
Just as death seemed imminent and blackness loomed ominously at the edge of Draco's gaze, Harry shifted, lifting himself up onto his elbows, cock still trapped in the blond's fiercely tightening hole and Draco smiled drowsily at him before stilling at the expression on the still breathless Gryffindor’s face.  
  
"There," Harry panted, pulling back to fix Draco with a piercing stare, "Now your Daddy won't want you anymore… right?"  
  
Draco stiffened, breath whistling in through his teeth, chest burning as his eyes filled rapidly with hate.  
  
"You BASTARD!" He yelled, trying to move out from beneath the brunets weight only to find his limbs to unwilling, too overused to bear him more than a scant few inches from the ground. "You son of a bitch, you bastard fucking lying Gryffindor piece of shit I'll…"  
  
"You'll WHAT?" Harry snarled back harshly, seizing Draco by the throat and hair, shaking him roughly. "Isn't this what you wanted? Isn't this my cue to go running to the papers and tell them that Lucius Malfoy's son is a fucking little queer who likes nothing better than to take it up the arse from the Boy Who Lived? Isn't that the plan?!" He released his grip on both hair and throat to hold Draco's face between his palms, looking directly into the frozen boy's eyes, ignoring the silent tears tracking down his face. "Then he can disown you, right? And then you'll be free… free of the Malfoy obligations, free of Voldemort, free of everything, even me… right? Isn't that the idea Malfoy?"  
  
Draco trembled, unable to trust his voice so greatly did he want to scream and cry that now Harry really had betrayed him, fucking him purely so he'd have to join the side of the light, have to give up everything that had always made him who he was… And yet…  
  
What if he was right? What if it was that simple all along?  
  
Snape's gift, a last chance to break away from the fate planned for him by his Father, to simply 'force' him to not go bad because he'd have no other choice but to stay with them.  
  
He wanted to throw up. He couldn't bear the thought of his Father's face… couldn't bear the thought of Harry's death… but he wouldn't have to… but what would he have left?  
  
He had no choice.  
  
He bit his lips and tried to will the tears away so that he could at least attempt to meet Potter's eyes.  
  
Potter. Not Harry. Potter hated him, Potter only fucked him so he wouldn't work for Voldemort.  
  
He swallowed and closed his eyes, tensing yet further when he heard Potter's breathless cursing.  
  
"Holy fuck… you… you really think I'd do it, don't you? Well it’s not that easy I'm afraid because I'll NEVER fucking expose you, Malfoy. You think I'd do this to force you to stay? Well fuck YOU! If you want to say then you have to say so, I can't make you stay and fine, if you want to go then fine I  _promise_  I'll never tell your precious Daddy about us… about what's gone on between us, alright?"  
  
Draco's eyes shot open as the Gryffindor's voice cracked and broke over the last few words, the brunet seizing his wrists and slamming them up over his head, holding him in place with an iron grip over his as yet unmarked forearms as Draco submitted, too stunned to resist, mouth agape as he witnessed tears rolling down over the brunets still flushed cheeks.  
  
"I… I can't make your choice for you Draco… but…" He shook his head, breaking eye contact as he attempted to fight back what sounded horribly close to a sob, "But you are better than that… ok? I'm not saying stay for me… I… I just… You need to know that, you are better than what they have planned and I… just, just make a choice damn it!" He blinked and two fat tears rolled down to drip helplessly onto Draco's upturned face. "Just… stay if you want to… Or… or… Go, go join him, just fucking CHOOSE ok…?"  
  
He lifted a hand to wipe the back of it clumsily over his eyes, whispering brokenly again, "Just fucking choose… just…choose."  
  
Draco's mind reeled and spun, giddily slamming into the sides of his skull.  
  
_Choose, choose… Make a choice damn it!_  
  
Oh god, he couldn't choose, he couldn't he couldn't he couldn't…  
  
It was too hard, his father or… or… He couldn't help them kill Harry, he just, he couldn't… but his family, his father… His father wanted to kill Harry and he'd never ever forgive Draco for letting... wanting to let Harry ever be inside him, now or ever again… he couldn't decide, he couldn't choose… he was always told never asked, never asked to choose, choose for himself, he couldn't, he couldn't…  
  
"Draco," Harry's eyes, reddening and bright with tears yet to be shed and the strange guttural scrape that's made when your voice is dragged unbidden from you, "… _Please_?"  
  
The words poured through Draco, heavier, sweeter and faster than his own blood in his veins so quickly did his heart seize upon and pound with the weight of it.  
  
Please.  
  
Please choose.  
  
Please don't join Him.  
  
Please don't make me.  
  
Please don't leave me.  
  
Please Stay.  
  
Please   
  
_Please?_  
  
Draco breathed out, the leaden bulk of dread drifting from him in slow waves of surety, unable to break his gaze from that of the near silent Gryffindor, that lush lower lip being ruthlessly bitten down on in punishment for its last spilled phrase.  
  
Please.  
  
He felt something similar to a smile quirk the edge of his sore and bleeding mouth, twisting his wrists in their flesh and blood manacles 'til he could angle his hands downward towards Potters.  
  
"Well," he rasped, a single tear streaking down from the corner of his eye to dampen his hairline further, "Since you asked so nicely…"  
  
And then long fingers, still as strong (though not as sure) as on that first night, twisted themselves about the slightly rougher, blunter digits still holding him in place, binding himself deliberately to the brunet as he tilted his trembling lips up for the elated Gryffindor to claim.  
  
They mumbled and muttered nonsensical things, body's shifting and stuttering together before Harry began rocking into Draco's warm body once more, each sobbing breath a strain, chests heaving against each other as they writhed and declared improbable, wonderful hopeful things as truth. Blood throbbed painfully in their upraised arms, slowly numbing from both pain and pleasure, Draco's fingers still clasping Harry's even as they raced towards completion, his grip fierce and tight with promise.  
  
" _Mine_ ," Harry abruptly snarled into their kiss, spilling deep inside Draco once more and near crushing their knuckles as his grip tightened, feeling Draco's quick, slick heat splash between their bellies, using his teeth once more as he growled and shuddered before hiding his face in the Slytherin's sweat glistening throat. "And… and…  _yours_." He whispered, oblivious to the sudden tears, the almost pride on the debauched blond's face.  
  
Mine… and Yours.  
  
It sounded like the best decision Draco had ever made.  
  
_Good Boy._  
  
He tightened his grip on Harry, palm to palm, legs about his hips before burying his face in the soft black locks and simply breathing the Gryffindor in as the storm raged and echoed outside.  
  
He didn't plan on letting go. He had made his choice.   
  
Time to live with it.  
  
Fin. 


End file.
